


There are worse palaces to be stuck in

by sea_greensky



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: AU, Angst and Feels, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Fluff, Pandemic - Freeform, Romance, Scotland, a little light murder, lock down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24961942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_greensky/pseuds/sea_greensky
Summary: AU. Jude and Cardan are students at Edinburgh university, everything's gone to hell and they're stuck together for the time being. I'm new to this so I guess we'll see how it goes.
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Comments: 59
Kudos: 120





	1. Beginings

Cardan.  
“Shit. What a fucking shit show”. I put the phone down and looked at Jude – not quite how I’d imagined waking up with her – in the recovery position next to the toilet, a pillow under her head, a blanket covering her body. The house party had been Locke’s idea, of course. It was his idea to have it at the Insmire estate – of course, because security, and convenience, and whatever, and how could I argue with any of it. It’s just that I love this place and would rather not have either him or Valerian anywhere near it, though god forbid they ever suspect that. I can only imagine the damage they’d manage to wreck upon it. By accident. Of course.   
Between them they’ve certainly done enough damage to Jude and I’m sure a large part of that is because both suspect how much I really do like her, despite my effort to hide it and her obvious antipathy. Hardly flattering that, but maybe it’s been for the best – offered her some protection from them. 

I suppose if I’m being entirely honest, I should admit that at first the party sounded like fun. We knew lockdown was on the cards and a last bit of fun beforehand was appealing. At least it was until I saw who arrived – and yes, I should probably have checked beforehand but what difference would it have made. There were a few of the usual hangers on that are always around us, but rather less of them than usual – Locke said it was because so many of the right sort were already heading home. Nicasia and Valerian are always a given, not that I really want to party with the girl who dumped me for someone who was meant to be my best friend but looking like I care is pathetic.   
With Valerian I’d always thought it was a case of keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but I’m wondering about that now. I should probably just get Madoc to deal with him. It really wouldn’t take much, just a few quiet words is would do it, but Madoc’s solutions tend to have a permanency about them that I’m not quite ready to have on my conscience. I’m no murderer. 

Still, all of that would have been okay if bloody Locke hadn’t sprung Jude and Taryn on us. He spent all winter flirting with Jude whilst he was with Nicasia, and whilst it turned out he’d been seeing Taryn too. I have no idea why women always blame each other and never a shit like Locke, but Nicasia and Jude have always bought out the worst in each other. And Taryn, well Taryn probably deserves Locke. It’s also almost certainly why Jude had ended up in and out of Valerian’s bed the last couple of months and I really don’t want to think about that.

Either way the hangers on were shunted off after a couple of days (how does Locke do it?) whilst he managed to persuade us to stay on for a couple of days. Taryn and Valerian were all for it, Nicasia too proud to bow out, Jude stuck because of her bloody sister – and where else was I going to go. It’s basically my fucking house and where I have every intention of being locked down. Although not now it seems, on my own (well as alone as you can be with staff and security around). No. Now I’ve got Jude too, and god only knows how she’s going to react when she finds out. Maybe if she’s busy being sick she won’t knife me or anything.  
Ahh. Last night. It was clearly what Locke had been building up to all weekend, the atmosphere was positively toxic already before he raided the cellar and broke out a stash of god knows what. I don’t care about Taryn getting stoned but when I saw Valerian slip something in Jude’s drink, I saw red. I knew he was a bit… but she’d basically told him to fuck off earlier and meant it. Whatever he had in mind there was no way she was up for it, and maybe it was stupid of me to assume he’d draw the line at rape. Anyway, I’m sure even Jude would forgive me for ruining her shirt by knocking her drink all down her before she’d had more than a sip. Though judging by the way she’s been out all night even a sip was enough. 

I took her to my room in the end. It seems the key had gone missing from her door, and even if it hadn’t it would have been hard to explain locking her in. At least when she wakes up it should be obvious that whatever else went down, nobody touched her. Taryn was out of it enough to convincingly pretend ignorance – though I’m not so sure she was, but even Nicasia was jolted enough in the end to arrange for one of her mother’s drivers to take her and Valerian away early this morning. The scandal from this sort of shit would be as bad for her as it would for me – that she understands that is one of the reasons that despite all of it we’re still friends.   
I gave them hell first thing. It started with snide comments from Val about what sort of night we’d had – the bastard had clearly checked and found she wasn’t in her room, and more or less ended with me asking what they thought General fucking Madoc would do if anything had happened to his daughter. If there was any doubt about it Taryn told them he’d behead anyone who interfered with what he considered to be his family with a dead eyed expression which suggested that she wouldn’t mind watching. Which is a reminder that she watched more or less exactly that happen to her mother and father, all three of them did. 

I guess Locke got the message too because an hour later I got a message from one of the staff letting me know that he and Taryn had gone North to a house Locke has up there. In Jude and Taryn’s car. Which left me to pass that on to Madoc when he phoned all fatherly concern to say that Oriana had virus symptoms, they were in strict quarantine and he and my father had decided the girls should stay with me at Insmire for the next couple of weeks. He can deal with Taryn himself, I told him Jude had gone for a run (it’s got to be better all round than saying she’s passed out on my bathroom floor right?) and would call him when she came back. And now I guess I should really try and wake her up. 

Jude.  
Shit, shit, shit. Cardan thinks I’m still out, he must do, or he’d have taken that call somewhere else. Or made me speak to Madoc. And why did he cover for me like that? He certainly didn’t for Taryn and I’d have thought he’d enjoy Madoc being pissed off with me even more than him being pissed at her. It was the row with Locke and Valerian that woke me up so I doubt he’s covering for them, to scared of Madoc probably, and they should be, but they should be just as scared of me because I’m fucking done with their fucking games. 

I knew this party was a mistake; we’ve been thrown together with Cardan’s crowd for long enough, but we’ve really never fitted with them though they’ve sort of got used to having us around. The problem is between association with that prize bunch of shits and Madoc most people you might want to know steer clear. Not all, but most. With all the talk of lock down, and the prospect of who knows how long stuck in with Madoc and Oriana a party, any party, was tempting and if nothing else Locke normally has a big enough crowd to get lost in. 

Not this time though, oh no, this time he engineered it to be as awkward as fucking possible. I guess I was flattered when Locke showed an interest in me, not many people do really, not like that, and he has a way of making you feel like you’re the only person who really sees him (I bloody well see him for what he is now) which is hard to resist when you don’t have a lot of friends. Taryn clearly couldn’t resist it either. So, I let my guard down and let things go a lot further than I would have if I were thinking clearly. Then he dropped me, and it turned out he’d been with Nicasia at the same time which would have been bad enough. But no, that couldn’t be all, he had to have been seeing Taryn too, and I really don’t get why she didn’t tell me at the time.

So everyone, including Jude, hates Jude, which would probably be why going to bed with Valerian ever happened. It’s stupid because I’ve never been in any doubt about what a prize prick he is, but we had a lot of sports stuff in common, and I don’t even know. Perhaps I thought it would piss Locke off, but Val – he scared me fairly quickly. I thought it was just casual sex at first but a lot of the time it felt like he really hated me, but he kept coming back. This weekend was the obvious time to tell him to fuck off once and for all, and I did which felt great for all the time it took to look in his face and wonder what the fuck he was going to do next and how much it would hurt. I really thought for a moment that he was going to kill me. 

If we’d been alone, I think he would have. Or at least tried to. Madoc insists we always wear at least one knife and whatever else his shitty KGB past has meant for us, he did at least teach us a lot about self defence. And attack too, though Madoc would see it as the same thing. It seems from what Carden was shouting earlier that he understands Madoc pretty well, the gist seems to be that Val spiked my wine – so I suppose I should thank Cardan for the wine I’m still covered in – and it explains why I feel like a wrung out dish rag right now.

Cardan was right about the scandal too if I’d gone home obviously messed up Madoc would have kicked off. Locke and Val might be well connected but Cardan is a prince, and Madoc one of his father’s senior, if shadier, advisors. It’s not the sort of shit Nicasia would really want near her name either. She wouldn’t care about what happened to me, she’d just want it happening when she was nowhere near. They both might be fairly minor royalty, but her and Cardan in the same place attract gossip and paparazzi. At best it would have meant Val and Locke would have lost a lot of their access and privilege, but if Madoc knew any of this…

And now I really need to think of a way to get away from here because the gist of that call seems to be that Oriana has symptoms of this stupid virus and I really don’t want to be stuck in the middle of the bloody highlands with His Royal Fucking Highness, Prince Cardan. The problem is where. I know Vivi is with Heather in London, even if I could get there (thanks for taking the car Taryn) they’re not going to want a third person in that flat, though they wouldn’t turn me away. I don’t think there’s anybody I can really impose on back in Edinburgh either. Garrett would put me up on his sofa if I asked, but he likes his space even more than I do and I’m not sure Madoc would wear it. 

At least Insmire is huge, Cardan ignores me most of the time anyway, and actually is going to be more bearable than Madoc and Oriana, especially of Taryn has really gone off with Locke. I do not want to have to answer questions about any of that mess. I just wish I had another option.


	2. Locking Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just set up really

Jude.  
My options might be limited but it’s more than time that I start taking control of this mess, so I let out a moan and mutter some swearwords. It turns out I don’t have to feign surprise at finding myself on Cardan’s bathroom floor because he’s a whole lot closer to me then I expected and my initial shock is genuine. He’s irritatingly good looking at any distance, but close to it’s a bit overwhelming. Something I normally resent but I figure the confusion is all helpful right now. I don’t have to pretend about the headache that hits me as I sit up either, and clothes that stink of souring wine give me something obvious to focus on. 

I think I see concern in his eyes and wonder for what exactly. He’s normally the first to laugh at any misstep I make, he should be pretty much rolling on the floor at the state I’m in. Or maybe it’s the floor he’s concerned about? Or possibly I look every bit as bad as I feel and he’s definitely going to have to explain that to somebody. The good news is that I don’t think I’m going to be sick. It wouldn’t be the worse deflection tactic, but I really don’t need to feel any more pathetic right now. 

His first words surprise me too. I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t a quiet “I know you’ll have questions, and I’ll answer them in a moment, but first I’m getting you a cup of tea”. It’s a relief when he turns away from me, a few more moments to try and think in. As not even my shoes, much less my wine soaked top, trousers, or knife have been removed I’m reasonably confident that nobody touched me last night, which is something.  
I couldn’t find the key for my room yesterday, and that along with the blanket, pillow, and this morning’s yelling are telling me that the one person who had my back is the last person I’d have expected to be. The tea surprises me too, it’s just how I take it, which makes me wary. Is that an accident or observation? I can’t think of any reason he’d have to pay that kind of attention; it rings alarm bells. 

So, in the spirit of taking control I tell him to start explaining. He tells me more or less everything I’d overheard already although he’s more circumspect about the spiked drink than he was when he was doing the Not Under My Roof routine earlier. He finishes up by suggesting a shower before I call Madoc, telling me there’s fresh towels a robe on the back of the door, and the landline is at my disposal.   
I ask him if it’s secure; it’s habit in our family, and probably his, but I want to see how he’ll react anyway. He simply raises an eyebrow and tells me that he hopes so. With as much grace as I can muster, I opt for the shower and find myself alone again. 

Getting out of my dirty clothes feels almost as good as getting into the shower does, and by the time I’m done I’ve had plenty of time to consider why he smells as good as he does (these kind of lux toiletries aren’t something I’ve ever thought much about, but I’m well on my way to conversion at first sniff) as well as what to say to Madoc.

It’s a brief phone call in the end. I can truthfully tell him I called him before checking my own phone for messages, and that I have no idea what Taryn’s up to. We both know that if they have gone up to Locke’s old family place the signal will likely be appalling and that for a while at least we’ll just have to wait for her to get in touch. I ask him about Oriana and Oak. Oak’s fine but Oriana is showing a text book array of symptoms and so are a few of the staff. He finishes up by telling me to “Just listen Jude, I’ll tell you as soon as you can come back home, and we’ll talk it all over then, but for now you’re in the best place possible and I want you to stay there.”

So basically he wants me to play spy for him. I don’t know if he expects an argument, but I don’t give him one. I’ve already come to the conclusion that as little as I like it, he’s probably right, even if he has no idea of half the reasons why. I tell him I’ll call later for more news of Oriana and hang up, because what I really want now is a chance to take stock and get out of Cardan’s bath robe. Which probably cost more than my whole damn wardrobe. It’s even more ridiculously luxurious than his shower balm. 

I know that Insmire is a private rather than a public residence and a correspondingly less formal than some of the royal palaces I’ve seen with Madoc on state occasions (still a bloody great big castle though). I know that Cardan spends quite a bit of time here too, most of it without his family, a lot of it having lavish parties if you believe the tabloids. Hell, I’ve been to a couple of them myself, towed along by Taryn who has more appetite for that kind of thing than I do, and this is very obviously his room.

Judging from the view out the window I’m in a completely different wing from my guest room which was a kind of standard country house shabby chic. This actually feels like it belongs to someone; it’s got the taste for luxury that I associate with him, but it’s kind of toned down compared to the flamboyant clothes he favours. There are a lot more books than I’d maybe have expected and there’s a sense of order about it which comes from more than servants picking up behind you.

It’s a bit disorientating, Cardan has been a dick to me for as long as I can remember, and I’ve come to really hate him for it – but this room suggests someone else altogether. I suddenly feel like I’m really intruding by being here like this. I’m also starting to wonder how I’m going to find my own room and my own clothes again without half the house seeing me in his dressing gown and drawing their own conclusions when there’s a knock on the door, and after a few moments he sidles in with a smirk on that irritatingly perfect face.

Cardan.  
All things considered Jude took my explanation of her, our, predicament better than I had expected. I didn’t say much about what Valerian did, but then from her expression I think she already had a pretty good idea which is more conformation if I needed it, that a guy I’ve let people think is my friend is someone I should never have let over the threshold. Fucking great Judgement there Cardan. 

I left her to have a shower actually believing for a moment that the day had done throwing shit at me for a bit. Another wrong call. I’d rung for Tatterfell when I got her tea, I know I caught her on the hop when she got it just how she likes it. Noticing those kind of details is a useful diplomatic tool – according to my sisters – and I kind of like the way that it messes with peoples minds and expectations of me (always so low!), though it was probably shitty to do that to Jude given the state she was in. 

I’d asked Tatterfell to bring a change of clothes for Jude, and she’s far too good a housekeeper to let on if there’s a problem in front of a guest but I knew something was amiss the moment I found her waiting outside my door for me. She insisted it was something I needed to see, and she was right. Someone, no prizes for guessing who, had trashed Jude’s things. Her clothes, a couple of books, her toiletries, all of it ripped or smashed. She’d had enough for a country house weekend, which would probably have been just enough for a lock down. But not now. I could fix that easily enough, but the malice behind this, and the violence, were hard to look at. Her key was back in the door. 

Tatterfell didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. After a long minute I told her to let our security detail know that I considered the house already in lock down, absolutely no visitors, no deliveries beyond the gate, asked if she could check to see if anything might be salvaged, to prepare a room for Jude in the family wing near mine, and that the rooms kept for my sisters might be unlocked. She simply nodded.

Is not yet 11am to early to start drinking? Telling Jude about this half drunk on top of all the other shit we’ve had today would definitely be easier. But then security tells me she, that both of those girls, always wear a knife and it’s a lot harder to dodge a knife drunk. Of course, getting hit by a knife hurts a lot less whilst you’re drunk (hurts just as much later unfortunately) so there’s that to consider too. But letting Madoc’s adopted daughter try and disembowel me would be a political nightmare best avoided so regrettably it’s probably better to stay sober. 

I could let Tatterfell explain this one, but that would be a coward’s way out and I’m already feeling increasingly shitty about everything to do with Valerian, so I guess it’s time to face yet more music. 

Jude.  
I knew that smirk couldn’t mean anything good, and it didn’t. I don’t know why anything that fucking prick, Valerian does should surprise me now, but this still did. And of course Taryn had taken all her things with her when I might have borrowed something. I somehow doubt she plans on wearing much with Locke anyway, and when it comes down to it I don’t know if I’m more pissed at the thought that she didn’t bother to check on me before skulking off (which would at least mean she didn’t know about this) or that she did know and skulked off anyway. Either way I was furious, and furious with Cardan too for having this stupid bloody party in the first place.   
Telling him what a prick I thought he and his friends were made me feel better for just as long as it took for him to get in a snide “but Jude, dear, it was you who went to bed with him.” Finally, the Cardan I knew.

“I hate you, yes every bit as much as you hate me, and more. Do not think I’ll forget this.” probably isn’t the best come back I could have thought of even in the heat of the moment, but it more or less covered all the bases and I saw him flinch a little which was satisfying. Madoc’s well earnt reputation as a cold blooded killer makes even shit like that sound a little threatening when it comes from anyone in his family. Really rattling Cardan isn’t easy though. He waved a disdainful hand, told me that a new room nearer his was being prepared, that a maid was saving what she could, would escort me when it was ready, and that he’d see me when I’d calmed down. 

As he moved to leave, I really lost it and more or less launched myself at him. He’s taller, and undoubtedly stronger than me, but I’ve had a lot of training, and he wasn’t expecting a physical attack, so he ended slammed against the wall with my hands around his neck before either of us really knew what I was going to do next. I squeezed for just a moment to let him know I could and then dropped him like a hot coal. All the time he just looked at me, faintly mocking, and then walked off apparently rather less ruffled than I was saying “Later, dear Jude, Later.”

Cardan.  
I don’t really think that could have gone worse, and I must remember to tell Tatterfell to make sure the gun room remains properly locked because for a moment I really thought she might kill me, and that I really might have deserved it if she did. I suppose the anger is better than despair or hysterics, but to often I get the impression that it’s all that keeps her going which isn’t likely to end well for anybody. 

It didn’t help seeing her wearing my favourite dressing gown, which raised a whole lot of thoughts that I had no business entertaining under the circumstances. It also made me irrationally jealous of Valerian which is the worse kind of pathetic. It brings me down to his level which is lower than anybody might reasonably want to find themselves. God knows I’ve not much to be proud of as it is.

I knew she didn’t think much of me, but I hadn’t realised she hated me, or thought that I could hate her though. I suppose I deserve that too, I’ve made myself easy enough to dislike over the years and it was foolish to think that this might be a chance to be friends – friendly? Something else anyway.


	3. house keeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Jude settling in and lashing out really.

Jude.  
If I was at home I’d have got my bow and arrow out, or a shotgun and headed for the traps, fenced with Madoc if he’d been around, or even just gone for a long run or a swim. With nothing but Cardan’s ridiculous dressing gown to wear, or the humiliating prospect of begging my dirty, wine stained clothes back from him none of those outlets were on the cards though. There wasn’t even anything of my own left to smash, and I was probably already guilty of treason as well as assault for that attack on Cardan without starting in on the royal collection. Not that anything in this room looked particularly valuable – but who knows with my current run of luck. 

I would probably have ended up crying, which would really have been the icing on the cake, if the housekeeper hadn’t turned up. She didn’t look particularly happy with me, but I’m used to that air of assessment that concludes you don’t belong here, and was grateful for the faint sting of irritation it caused. It was the most normal I’d felt since coming to this morning. 

After a moment her expression softened a bit, she told me her name was Tatterfell, and asked me to follow her. My old clothes were being washed she said, there had been a few bits and pieces she’d been able to rescue from Val’s rampage through my belongings, and my new room was ready. I don’t know if she expected thanks, but I offered them anyway along with an attempt at an apology for the extra work, which she cut off by saying it was her job.

Which bought me round to something else I’d noticed – the lack of obvious servants. Cardan might be a very junior prince, but Insmire is a more than big enough place to need a reasonable staff to run it. Even Madoc and Oriana with their obsession for privacy and discretion had a larger staff in our rather smaller home, and generally this sort of job should have been below the status of a housekeeper in a place like this. She might have done it for Nicasia, but not someone like me. 

As if she read my thoughts, or more likely sensed judgement in my silence she told me that they were down to a skeleton staff, Carden had told everyone before this stupid party that with a lockdown coming anyone who wanted to go home should. Interesting. And yet again, a level of consideration I’d just never associated with him. “Didn’t you want to go home too?” I asked the question before I’d really thought about it and expected another snub, but instead she answered.

“This is my home, my family has worked here for almost a hundred years, and I’d rather be here with some sort of a job to do than sat on my hands in a cottage I never use with no one to speak to… Or in my sister’s spare room and no peace from her children!” 

“There are worse palaces to be” I murmured in return and she smiled at me. It wasn’t very much but it was also the closest I’d been to a normal interaction with someone in days and I was grateful for it. My new room is beautiful too. Like Cardan’s the view is straight out over the sea, though I would have preferred it if I were much further than two doors down from him. Tatterfell forestalled me again with something about how much easier this would be for her staff to manage which didn’t leave me much room to object on. I could have sworn I saw a smile on her face as she turned away from me to knock on Cardan’s door, but if there was, she wiped it off pretty quickly. 

Seeing Cardan again bought back exactly the feel of his skin, and the tendons in his neck, beneath my fingers and I was conscious of the dressing gown and bare feet all over again. I know I flushed but at least I managed to meet his gaze, the mockery I read there made me straighten my back for whatever was coming next. 

Cardan.

“Right, lets find you some clothes.” I can only imagine what Jude was expecting me to open with, but it obviously wasn’t that and for once her expressions were unguarded. What I saw on her face made me laugh and she bridled instantly. I know I must have been smirking and if her next expression could have killed I’d be dead, but…

“My sisters use Insmire too, and they leave stuff here. They’re not going to care if you use it, and fetching as you look in my robe you probably want something more formal?” I clarified.

“Your sister’s clothes?” she echoed and then went silent – but really, she couldn’t argue however much I could see she wanted too. Very satisfying.

And actually the next hour or so was fun for both of us I think. I could feel her relax as she realised the clothes left behind here were nothing special – impersonal high street stuff that means you can turn up somewhere on a whim with no need for elaborate packing, old things you’d have no use for anywhere else but are fine for walking dogs in, and all the other country estate pursuits that involve mud, thorns, and messing around on beaches.   
We found tea shirts, a couple of jumpers, leggings, even jeans that fitted her, along with an unopened pack of M&S knickers that somebody had presented to Elowyn once as a joke. Not one that the fashion icon that is my eldest sister appreciated at all as I remember, but finally useful for something. 

Jude had got dressed in one of the bathrooms and we both had an armful of stuff to take back to her room, and I’d told her I’d have the rooms left unlocked, that she could help herself to whatever she needed, when she floored me with a “so what about your wardrobe?”.

The dressing gown had been bad enough, but the thought of her in more of my clothes was – a lot. There’s more of me in that room than I normally like to let people see too, but as she’d already been in there, and I didn’t want to break the fragile truce we seemed to be building I let her in. Exaggerated courtesy the only defence I could find. 

Jude.

Rifling through his sister’s rooms with Cardan was nowhere near as awkward as I expected, and sort of fun after a bit. In stark contrast to his room these were just places to sleep, with an absolute minimum of personal touches. The same sort of clothes that Oriana had made Taryn and I leave on Madoc’s yacht so that she didn’t have to fuss about baggage, forgotten, or left behind things. 

I realised with a jolt it was also very like the things that Vivi had left behind at home. I hadn’t really realised how completely she’d moved out until that moment, and I didn’t know if I should be sad about that, or relieved for her that she’d managed to get away to her own life. Both maybe. 

It’s partly why I wanted to see his room again, and I knew it threw him when I suggested a raid on his wardrobe too, but he covered it quickly. It was pushy given how generous he’d already been, but March in Scotland isn’t that warm and his sister’s clothes had been left with summer in mind, and much more than that I wanted to try and piece together all the new facets of his personality that I seemed to be catching.

His room is full of him, the books (of which there are a lot) look like they’ve been read, there were a few of my own favourites amongst them, and a lot more history, art, nature and folklore/fairy tale stuff than I expected. He never seems like he’s trying that hard in class, and from comments Val had made I’d got the impression that good marks were more to do with his being a prince than any work or effort he put in. With hindsight that was more likely spite on Val’s part. If it hadn’t been for my own dislike of Cardan I’d probably have wondered why he spent so much of the little time we spent talking in dissing someone who was meant to be his friend. 

Cardan’s wardrobe was an eyewatering combination of the flamboyant outfits I’m used to seeing him in, along with a more practical country suitable stuff, although even those things had all had a detail, or were luxurious enough to stand out. I have never seen so much cashmere in one place, not even in Oriana’s wardrobe, and she loves the stuff. 

In the end he lent me a couple of shirts, the width of his shoulders and his height giving me enough space in them despite his slimness, a fair isle jumper that I couldn’t imagine him wearing (but it smells of him, so he must have) and a fabulous pair of silk pyjamas, pushing my luck again - taking them was a deliberate act of provocation. I also realised that the room between ours was a sort of sitting room/study space for him and thought again that I’d prefer to be a bit further away. 

Still the peace between us held through a late lunch, and the need to spend some serious time with my phone was an unexceptional way to get away from him for the rest of the afternoon without sounding to rude about it.


	4. Insmire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess they're still establishing a routine and relationship here

Jude.

There hadn’t really been anyone I wanted to talk to, no message from Taryn, but then I hadn’t really expected any. A call from Vivi to say she was glad I was alright, and how much she was looking forward to Heather being furloughed which made me think a return call to her could wait. A few texts later and the best idea in the world seemed to be sleep so I did. Tatterfell woke me by knocking on the door a few hours later with a message from Cardan – would I prefer a tray of something in my room to coming down for dinner?

I debated for a moment about which would annoy him more, seeing me, or not, before deciding that today had already been enough and that I’d very much rather be alone.

It’s Tatterfell who wakes me again in the morning. She’s come to light the fire, and lays Cardan’s dressing gown across the bottom of my bed whilst she gives me another one of her assessing stares. I’m on the verge of getting annoyed by it when she suddenly smiles. “Well that’s a relief. You look much better this morning”, she tells me. I can’t help but grin back, “I feel better” I tell her.   
She tells me someone will knock when breakfast is ready, and alone again I shrug on that dressing gown and prepare to take a proper stock of my surroundings. I’m not quite sure what to make of the dressing gown, and wonder if it’s now so polluted by my commoner presence in it that he no longer wants it. That would fit with the attitude of the Cardan I thought I knew, sounded like the sort of thing I’d heard him drawl often enough to the evident amusement of his hangers on, but seemed at odds with his relative kindness yesterday. A puzzle for later.

I’d been to Insmire a couple of times before, once when we were quite young, and last autumn at another of those stupid parties. That last time had been when Locke first showed an interest, between that and Nicasia’s hostility – which made more sense now – I hadn’t really paid much attention to anything else, and I’d definitely never been in this part of the house before.

This wing was built on what felt almost like the edge of a cliff; the view from the window made me feel almost like I was floating over the water, and the character of the room suggested it was a much older part of the building than the Victorian fantasy that made up the front of the house. This room was also considerably more luxurious than the obviously not for very exalted guests one I’d been in before. The bathroom not only had everything I could need; the toiletries obviously came from the same stash as Cardan’s which was a definite bonus. 

In the end it was the new, not a total prick Cardan who collected me for breakfast as well. Dressed in jeans that made me all to aware of both the length and muscle of his legs, and a chunky knit that made his shoulders look broader than I felt comfortable with either. One of the things I’ve always hated about Cardan is how ridiculously beautiful he is. It’s distracting at the best of times, overwhelming at the worst, and though I hate myself for it I can never stop myself reacting to him. His grin said he knew it too. 

Breakfast was in another room I hadn’t seen, again much less formal, and much more comfortable than the bits of the house I’d been in before. There were even a couple of spaniels snuffling hopefully about the place – which he kept feeding bits of bacon to when he didn’t think I was looking. It was the most human I’d ever seen him.

Cardan.

Tatterfell had already told me that Jude seemed entirely recovered after I’d sent her with that dressing gown first thing. It had been far to tempting to wrap myself up in it last night and sit there day dreaming over her like some pathetic loser having his first crush. She’s made me feel like that for an age now though. Probably ever since we were all here one summer years ago, Valerian had pushed her and Taryn into the river. Locke, Nicasia, and I had laughed at first, it had seemed funny for a moment, and then when she fell and went under, I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do. I eventually pulled Taryn out of that river in tears, but Jude who had much the worse of the dunking wouldn’t let me help her at all. 

No, she was magnificently angry, and even more magnificently marched up to Valerian, and punched him hard enough in the stomach to make him double over, before stalking off with head held high despite looking like an extremely angry drowned rat. I could have kissed her right then and there but she’s always looked at me with the sort of contempt that makes it obvious she’s got a very clear idea of exactly how pointless I am as a prince and as a person. I will admit it irks me, and it’s one reason I’ve not been particularly kind to her since, and when I could have been. There are of course other reasons too.

I do wish that I wasn’t as conscious of her though, whenever I see her it’s hard not to grin like an idiot, or drool. She might not technically be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but she’s easily the most charismatic one I’ve ever met. So not the most relaxing presence to share breakfast with, thank god for Tatterfell’s hopeful dogs to fuss over.

They were something to talk about too, and then she started asking me about Insmire. I love this place, it’s the closest thing I’ve ever felt to being at home and the reason I chose Edinburgh University. Insmire is close enough that nobody has bothered to question why I spend so much time here, or decided to make it more difficult for me to do so. The dogs came in useful after breakfast too, it seemed perfectly natural to invite her to come for a walk with us so that she could get her bearings around the place. 

Jude.

I jumped at the chance of a walk; both for the exercise, and the space it would mean I could put between us. Also growing up with Madoc has taught me to be wary until I thoroughly know the layout of a place with all it’s possible points of entrance, exit, strength, and weakness. 

The whole estate turns out to be huge with forest and then deer moor stretching up into mountains on the landward side. The immediate grounds are almost an island and cover a good few acres. There’s the sea along one side, running from the cliff the house sits on down to a beach a good bit further along, and a river that comes from somewhere up in the mountains and curls almost all the way around us before hitting the sea. I don’t have very fond memories of that river, looking at it and remembering the time Carden and his friends laughed whilst I came damn near to drowning sends a cold shiver down my spine, and reminds me again not to trust his current niceness.   
I guess he might be remembering the same incident because he’s smirking again, but before I can seriously settle into a fantasy about pushing him in and seeing how he likes it, he’s introducing me to some of his security detail and they’re offering to show me where the best runs on the wider estate are. I’m wary of them too, but I’ll want the exercise, so it makes sense to accept. 

I was right about our part of the house being older too, most of the place has been extended or altered over the centuries until the only really original bits are the cellars which apparently go right under the cliffs, and he promises me a tour next time it rains and we’re stuck indoors. It’s also really clear from the way that he talks about Insmire that he loves it. It’s hard to fit with the party boy I’m used to, and I don’t really understand why it’s something he normally hides, but I hide enough of myself to respect his boundaries this once at least.

We go our separate ways after lunch again. Someone has got me a laptop I can use, and I settle down to do some course work. There’s still nothing from Taryn, and after a quick text check in with Madoc for forms sake, I find I’m reluctant to speak to anyone else. I know Vivi will call me when she’s less pre-occupied with Heather, and she’s really the only one who will understand how I feel right now. I don’t want to tell anybody else that I’m kind of liking it a lot here - or lie about how shit it is.

Dinner is less tense than I expect, maybe I’m finally building up some immunity to Cardan’s charms, and then it seems perfectly natural to follow him when he grabs glasses and a couple of bottles of wine. We end up in what was once the nursery somewhere near the top of the house in a kind of tower. There’s a lot of wood panelling, window seats that would be perfect to sit in if the weather hadn’t gone all Scottish, and a large comfortable looking sofa in front of a fire. We take an end each and I look at him speculatively whilst he pours us some wine. 

Cardan.  
I’m sort of ready for Jude’s questions, if I want to spend time with her I can’t really avoid them, but I’m grateful that they’re mostly about Insmire. I find I don’t mind talking about this place with her. Until she asks if it’s mine. It isn’t, but how I wish it could be. “It’s a sort of informal alternative to Balmoral that came into the family with my great grandmother” I explain, “it’s lent to cousins, and my sisters like it in the summer. We’re still close enough to go over there if we’re wanted but a lot of the time we’re not. I’m allowed to use it as much as I want whilst I’m at university, I guess they think I’m less likely to get into trouble up here…”  
Jude interrupts with something that sounds a lot like a snort, “but once we graduate I’ll be expected to join one of the armed forces for a decent interval, and then it’ll probably be London and a round of whatever public duties they find too tedious for the rest to bother with until my brothers have enough children to make me even more superfluous…”  
“None of that really sounds like you” she says with considerable understatement, “though I’d pay some serious money to see you opening a supermarket, or inspecting a new abattoir maybe…” by now she’s laughing so hard her wine looks in serious danger of tipping over and I make a grab for the glass. Our hands brush and I feel her flinch. It would have been better to let her spill the wine, I snatch my hand away and re position myself back into the corner of the sofa. I think we both feel awkward, but she bridges the moment with more questions and an adorably furrowed brow. “What if you get married, don’t you all get given some massive house in the country?”   
“Not this one, it’s to useful, to grand – I’d have to marry someone spectacularly eligible and she’d have to express a serious interest in it…”  
“someone like Nicasia?” she interrupts. Which stings, being dumped by Nicasia still hurts, but…  
“Maybe, but could you see her settled somewhere like this?”  
After a moments pause Jude says “no, but what do you want, for you, really?” and I’ve suddenly had enough.  
“To drink, and fuck, and have fun”, my tone is deliberately cold, my stare appraising, and she takes both the implied insult and dismissal, her stare equally appraising and in no way appreciative as she gets up to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking this Insmire is a mix of a whole lot of Scottish cliff top castles. Favorites off the top of my head are are Culzean, Dunnotter, Dunrobbin, Eilan Donan (not on a cliff but so pretty) Slaine but there are a ton more of them.


	5. New normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think I know where I'm going with this now...

Jude.  
Over the next few days I hear properly from Vivi and Heather, Vivi commiserates with me about the company – she knows how I feel about Cardan, but congratulates me for being here – and she’s right. There’s no panic buying in crowded supermarkets for me to deal with, I’m not stuck in a flat somewhere, not limited to only an hour outside a day, and with the possible exception of Oak, I’m not really missing anyone either. Being here is easy. Cardan is a bit of a joke to Vivi, she still thinks of him as the kid brother of a friend she used to hang around with, so it’s Heather who warns me to be careful around him, obviously puzzled about what I’m even doing here.

Vivi clearly still hasn’t told her much about our family, which I get, but also think is going to blow up on spectacularly. I mumble something about university and a house party to her, but there’s no doubt that Heather thinks I’m out of my depth. I’m not, at least not in the ways she thinks, but it’s kind of nice that she’s worried at all. Nobody else is. And they’re very carefully not talking about Taryn either.

I’ve got into a routine of going for a run with the security guy everyone calls Roach before breakfast, and when we realised we shared a love of martial arts we agreed to some training whenever he’s free. I haven’t asked him about himself, I don’t really need to; I’ve known people like him ever since going to live with Madoc more than well enough to realise whatever he told me would boil down to precisely nothing. 

The subject of Madoc does come up with him briefly on our second run when I tell him he sounds like my father. We’d stopped at a point where the track came out of the tree’s so he could point out some of the estate boundaries. Her laughed, which isn’t the typical reaction mentions of Madoc elicit, then tells me he knows people who have worked for him, and the judgement is that there are worse bosses to have. 

I don’t really have much to say to that. I’m used to thinking about Madoc as a monster, albeit one that’s been good to me in his way, and the people who work for him as worse. Some of them are – I’m missing the tip of a finger to prove that point, but I like Roach, and his obvious acceptance of what Madoc is throws me. “He’s been good to me and my sisters” I reply carefully and am grateful that we move off again.

Things have settled down with Cardan too. We meet for meals, and watch tv over a bottle of wine in his favourite sitting room in the evenings. It started with constant bickering about what to watch and descended into a competition to find the thing we thought the other would find most tedious. He does not appear to enjoy royal romances, his commentary on the customs apparently observed in fictional kingdoms are a lot better than the films themselves, and it feels like safe territory. He at least pretended to be interested in my analysis of ballistics in some the shitty action films he got me to watch too. It’s outwardly friendly even if I’m constantly aware of a current of tension underpinning any time we’re together. I don’t know if it’s that he particularly regrets revealing anything about himself that first night, or if it’s the strain of being pleasant to an unwanted house guest but it’s always there. 

Cardan.   
I find I really like having Jude around, even if she’s an expert in keeping me at arms length and makes me watch the worst romances ever made. At least we can joke about it, and I get my own back every time I see her go gimlet eyed over some stupid fight scene. Given her apparent skill set I wonder what she’ll make of ‘Arrow’… 

It might be superficial, but at least it’s easy, and I like not having to think about everything I say with her. The only other person that I’ve had that with in a while is Nicasia and I hadn’t realised how much I missed it after she dumped me, or the dumb shared jokes that you can’t explain to anyone else. It’s all delightfully normal!

Still, I’m grateful to wake up to a day of such appallingly cold, wet, and windy weather that we have no option but to stay indoors. The gale coming in off the sea is sending spray right over the top of the cliffs which is dashing even over the windows in the upper stories and threatening to have trees down. It’s the perfect day to spend exploring the house if she’s up for it.

She is, and we do, we start in dusty attics full of the stored up bits of lives of previous generations – I actually find an opera cloak that must have belonged to my great grandfather at the very least, which I determine to wear myself some time, and elaborately beaded dresses from the 1920’s, more elegant gowns from the decade later. Some of them are so delicate it looks like a touch would tear the fabric, but others are in better shape and as Jude flirts with an ostrich feather fan I wonder what she’d look like in some of them. Stunning, I think. 

As she gets to know the secrets of the houses many corridors, staircases and connecting doors, we even have stupid races to see who can get to the entrance hall first. She tries not to let it show how much it annoys her when I win – she’s madly competitive, and she’s right, it is a cheat – there isn’t a corner of this house I don’t know. I don’t tell her how hard I have to run to beat her despite knowing every shortcut there is. We end up in the cellars, which are impressive but gloomy on a day like this. 

They feel like they go on for miles under the cliff, and actually come out onto the face of them at one point. There used to be a sort of landing system there once so that wine and whatever else could be delivered directly into the cellars long before decent roads had been put in. There are legends about smuggling too, and on a sunny day, or moonlit night it has an air of romance and excitement about it. In the teeth of a storm with water rushing in and dragging out leaving slimy debris in it’s wake I start to worry that it’s going to make me look like a potential serial killer to bring a girl down here. And actually, maybe not the safest place to bring a girl who can pull off the kind of convincingly murderous expression that Jude so excels at when she’s pissed off about something. 

Jude.  
I turn to see Cardan shiver, and when I ask “did someone walk over you grave” he gives me a look I can’t quite decipher. We’re standing on a sort of platform at the stop a stair case carved into the rock. It’s impressive but slightly frightening in these conditions, and the hollow booming noise the sea makes as it hits the back of the cave is starting to become oppressive. We’re both obviously glad to get out of there.

We end up back in the old nursery eating pizza and drinking wine whilst Cardan tells me increasingly boastful, and I suspect fanciful stories, about his ancestors who all seem to have been pirates, smugglers, highwaymen, or worse. On the other hand I know enough clan history to be able to half believe it. I think it’s the best fun I’ve had with him, and then with an odd drop of my stomach think it might be the best fun I’ve had with anybody. This is exactly what Heather warned me about.

Cardan.  
By the time both my memory of the actual stories around Insmire, and capacity to imagine new ones has given out it’s later than I thought. Late enough for some stupid horror film to be on. It’s kind of funny at first, we fall into our usual habit of making fun of the more ridiculous effects – until someone beheads a screaming woman.

“That’s not what it looks like” Jade says flatly. I’m about to start arguing with her about how she could possibly know that when I really look at her face. It’s carefully blank, and very pale. I know she sees the moment the penny drops with me because its when she drops her gaze. I fill our glasses, hand hers back to her and ask as gently as I can “tell me?” it comes out more like a command than I meant it to, but she starts talking anyway.  
“You must know the story?” but I shake my head. I’ve heard rumours, but they’d been the kind of thing that’s surely to horrible to be true. Though it turns out apparently not. Her voice has that same flat quality as she continues…  
“When Madoc found out mum and Vivi were still alive he sent someone to our house. Taryn and I had just turned 7, and weirdly for someone who’s intel is normally so good I don’t think he knew about us. We were sent upstairs but could hear them all yelling and then something being knocked over. I don’t know why we went back downstairs then; we just did. Dad was already dead, but we were in time to see him cut mum’s head off with a sword. A Katana I learnt later. He ignored us the whole time and just walked out. Madoc turned up minutes later, told Vivi to pack us what we needed, put us into his car and we’ve been with him since.”  
I’m almost numb with shock, to shake myself out of it I stand and put more wood on the fire, I also yank the tv plug out of the socket. When I sit down again it’s right next to Jude and I put an arm around her, I think she was already holding herself this stiffly whilst she’d been talking. I don’t really have any idea of how you’re meant to offer comfort, I’ve never been called on to do it before. But Jude doesn’t move so I keep my arm where it is. “You’ve been stuck with him all this time?” My voice is harsh with the effort to keep emotion out of it.

She turns to look at me then, eyes blazing “There was nowhere else for us to go, it would have been worse if he’d left us. At least we stayed together, I think he did it because he felt responsible for us at first, and it fitted with his code of honour. But he loves us now. Whatever that’s worth. The shit thing is he’s the only father I really remember, and I’ve come to love him too, and worse than that if you want it all. I get why he did it.” She turns then and buries her face in my shoulder. There doesn’t seem to be anything to say so I don’t say it, just keep holding her whilst she forces herself not to cry.


	6. History lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jude shares some of her past, they get a bit closer, and inevitably it goes wrong

Cardan.  
It might make me feel particularly useless, but it seems nothing probably is the right thing to do. I realise this at about the same time I also realise that Jude seems to have fallen asleep. Maybe the sensible move would be to wake her up and send her to bed, but instead I settle us more comfortable into the sofa and start to try and put the pieces of the puzzle that she is to me together.

I start that by googling what happened to them. Everyone knows that Vivi is Madoc’s daughter, Jude and Taryn her half sisters that he took in after their parents were murdered, but I’d been to young at the time to really take in the details, and I guess already to used to the need for security, the constant threat of terrorists, assassination, kidnap, whatever, to really think much of it then or later. It was just another example of why we should always be careful about where we went, who we knew, what we said.

Once I start reading I recognise all the hallmarks of a well-managed story. Madoc has been the man my family, and others like us, have called in to deal with this kind of shit show for as long as I can remember which suddenly makes me wonder just how many bodies he knows are buried and where – literally as well as metaphorically. 

It’s a pathetic story about how enemies from their past back in Russia had made enough of a nuisance of themselves to make his first wife feel it was safer to leave, how regretfully he agreed and let her take their child to start a new life – how they’d even faked her death to ensure Vivi’s safety, but it hadn’t been enough. The wolves had come anyway. There was speculation that Eva knew more than was healthy, that she might have been prepared to testify against certain people. Later her murder was linked to some newly declared enemy of the Russian state. Madoc figures as tragic and heroic, taking in the orphaned twins who have no other family. Anybody who hadn’t met Madoc might believe it but knowing his commitment to family and something of how he operates, Jude’s version makes much more sense.

The faked death part of Eva’s story is more puzzling, it happened long enough ago for details to be vaguer, and Madoc not quite the same semi-public figure he is now it hadn’t got anything like the column inches. A fire, house destroyed, the bodies of a woman and baby found, a terrible tragedy for husband serving in Iraq to return to. What exactly did Jude mean when she said she got why he did it?  
Madoc had placed all three girls in the same schools as us. With hindsight it makes sense, they were the best, or at least the most prestigious simply because of our presence. And for the same reason they had the best security too. Send your children there and you could guarantee contacts and opportunities for them. Vivi had been the kind of rebellious that makes someone popular from the outset, with a don’t care attitude which had somehow still just kept her just on the right side of the rules – a lot like Locke and Valerian really.

Taryn and Jude had been different. They didn’t look quite like us, didn’t wear the uniform children’s outfits that could have come straight out of the 1950’s, or use the same slang, and when they didn’t care it felt like an insult. It makes my face heat to think about it now because they’d obviously seen my condescension for what it was and made no bones about rejecting it. At least Jude didn’t, Taryn accepted any crumbs thrown her way like every other hanger on that celebrity attracts, but even she never seemed grateful for them.

It was even more annoying when they came, outwardly at least, to look exactly the part they were playing. Schools like ours foster competition and value success, and they excelled at both. Always top marks in exams, and always winning things – the things we were bought up to think of as our own particular preserves. With Taryn it’s horses, Jude shoots. I hate guns, and despite endless humiliating lessons struggle to hit the easiest clay target, never mind an actual bird. Listening to my family you’d be forgiven for thinking that was some sort of disgrace on the actual nations honour. I’ve never seen Jude miss anything, she is terrifying to watch with a gun, even more so with an arrow. She fences for the university team and could have taken that further to if she wanted.

Despite being somebody else’s children, Madoc clearly adores them too. He was always around looking proud, and again to my shame I have to admit, at least to myself, that I was jealous of that. A sixth child that neither my parents or the country particularly wanted or needed I longed for the sort of attention that Madoc gave his adopted daughters. My own parents marriage broke down in an epic scandal not that long after I was born, my mother clearing off to America without so much as a backward glance at her children. When my father wasn’t away most of his attention has been on my eldest brother who will one day succeed him. 

There are persistent, if ridiculous rumours, that I’m not even his child. Ridiculous but still painful even though we’re supposed to ignore that kind of thing, and his apparent disinterest has done nothing to dispel the stories.   
Although it all appears in a somewhat different light after what Jude has just revealed. What would their lives have been like if they hadn’t worked so hard to make it all look so perfect? What have their lives actually been like living with the man who ordered their parents killed, totally dependant on his good will. They’ve made themselves indispensable to his public image in a way that I’ve never had to bother with. Whatever I do my future is more or less mapped out for me, and short of bloody revolution as long as I’m prepared to smile, shake hands, and keep my mouth shut, it’ll always be comfortable at least, if pointless and dull. None of that makes me feel any less ashamed of how I’ve behaved towards Jude in the past, or even know how to start apologising to her for it. 

Jude.  
I’m not sure what wakes me up, or how long I’ve been asleep for, but the fire has almost gone out and I’m sprawled across Carden on the nursery sofa, our legs so tangled together that if I try and move I’ll almost definitely wake him too. I’m not quite ready for that. I’ve not actually gone to sleep with another person since the first nights at Madoc’s when Taryn, Vivi, and I used to crawl into the same bed together. This doesn’t feel at all like that.

I’m aware of every inch of his body that touches mine in ways that are not at all comforting, even if comfort is how this started. I’ve never spoken about that day to anyone, none of us has as far as I’m aware, and certainly not to each other. It’s always been there between us, and Vivi has skirted around it once or twice, but for Taryn and I the need to pretend our family life is normal has always been more important. I don’t know why I told him, how he got under my skin so much. I should have taken Heather’s warning more seriously because god knows what he’ll do with that information, or even make of it. I can’t think of anything good coming out of this though. 

At least it was uncharacteristically tactful of him not to say anything, and at least I didn’t cry. Not that waking up covering someone like a blanket makes me feel like I’ve saved any dignity here. Whilst I am stuck to him like Velcro I take the opportunity for a really good look. If I’d hoped to spot some flaw or blemish, I’m disappointed. From silky black curls that put those damn spaniels to shame in the strokability stakes, almost obscenely long eyelashes hitting cheek bones I think I could probably cut myself on, and full lips still slightly stained by the wine he was drinking – I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful. Both Locke and Valerian are unreasonably handsome, especially considering what total pricks they are, but Cardan is something else.

Which makes me… lets call it uncomfortable, all over again. I must have moved slightly because he wakes up, and I see first confusion and then something else that I can’t quite read, and don’t want to in his eyes. I know he’s about to say something and I feel the panic rising. Whatever it is I really don’t want to hear it right now, so I do the first thing I can think of to leave him as unsettled as I feel, and because if I’m being honest with myself it’s what I’ve wanted to do for a while now. I kiss him. I really, really, should have listened to Heather. 

His response is tentative at first, his hands moving gently up my arms with what I could imagine was reverence, but is probably confusion at another assault upon his person, and then suddenly he’s all in, arms tight around me. My experience isn’t particularly wide in the field, with Locke everything was new and awkward, and I could never decide what to do with my hands, it was fun but I got nothing like the adrenaline rush I’m feeling now. With Valerian it wasn’t fun – more of a grim dare that I was determined to see through. 

Kissing Cardan feels like smashing every target I’ve ever hit all at once, there’s a totally unfamiliar excitement about it and a rightness I would never have expected. Desire kicks in, and with it I lose any pretence that I’ve got control over this situation. For a moment I don’t care, I just want to get closer to him and damn the consequences, but something’s changed because he suddenly pushes me away, and this time I have no trouble reading his expression at all. Pity and disgust outweigh anything else that might be there.

I’m on my feet almost instantly looking down on him still sprawled on the sofa, disheveled by my hands and mouth. I want to mock him, hurt him, humiliate him the way he’s just humiliated me, but can’t trust my voice not to betray me. Or think of anything to say.   
“Jude” his tone is careful, flat.  
“Not what you expected?”, my voice is harsh but steady, which is at least a relief.  
“No… I…” his voice trails off, he’s clearly looking for the right words to say something, but I’m not going to give him the chance or the satisfaction to speak them.  
“Goodnight, Cardan.” And with that I leave.

Cardan.

I’ve thought a lot about kissing Jude, a lot more than I’m comfortable with if I’m honest. But not even in my wildest imaginings was it anything like that. Like any mad thing could be possible. I’ve never felt so close to losing myself in another person, or so much like I’d come home, and I’d very much like to have carried on kissing her for the rest of the night but there are things I should say to her first.   
After what she’s told me, and some of the boasts Locke and Valerian made, she at least deserves some honesty, and a chance to decide if she wants to get into this when we’re going to be stuck together for god knows how long. 

What I don’t know is how I’m going to tell her any of this now. Or if she’s already made up her mind that I’m really not worth it. I don’t even know what made her kiss me like that, or how I made her so angry so quickly. Even with my talent to annoy that must be some sort of record. What I can do is get so drunk I don’t care about any of this, there’s not a single damn reason not to.


	7. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit longer than usual, but I wanted to clear most of the backstory/history stuff out of the way

Jude.

I don’t know if it’s because the mixture of anger, confusion, humiliation, and fear, I felt as I left the tower room was such familiar territory for me, or a reaction to all the emotion but I was asleep almost the instant I got into my own bed. The storm had blown out by the next morning, so I went looking for Roach early, happy to find that he planned to extend his run to check for damage along part of the estate’s perimeter fence. If he was surprised by my enthusiasm for a muddy up hill slog he didn’t say anything, but between the exercise and the task in hand I had all the distraction from thinking that I needed.

I got back to the house almost to late for breakfast, but well in time for a disapproving stare from Tatterfell, which softened a bit when she took in the state of me. Cardan, it seemed was to hungover for breakfast and unlikely to emerge for lunch either. She had clearly assumed I’d be in a similar condition, and just as obviously didn’t consider this quite such typical Cardan behaviour as I did. And actually, it hadn’t been in the time we’d spent here together. I frowned over this a bit, another reaction she seemed to approve of as I made a hasty bacon sandwich out of the breakfast things and grabbed an apple. 

She promised to leave me out some sandwiches later and I headed off for an overdue shower. I kept myself busy for the rest of the morning catching up on some work and with a few friends, but by the afternoon felt to restless to concentrate, so when I collected my plate of sandwiches headed up to the tower room. If Cardan was going to emerge from his room I figured it was the most likely place he’d drift to, and that it would be easier to face him if he found me there, than if I had to go looking for him later, or wait for dinner.

The rooms been tidied of any trace of last nights food or wine, the cushions are plumped up again, and the fire ready to be lit, but the books he’s been reading there are still left out and so is his phone. Judging from the number of unread messages on it I guess it’s been here since yesterday. I hadn’t thought to bring a book of my own, but the need to lose myself in a fictional world is suddenly overwhelming. I pick up Cardan’s book, it’s something I’ve never heard of; a collection of short stories called ‘Of Cats and Elfins’ by Sylvia Townsend Warner. 

The stories are weird, melancholy, otherworldly, a little bit queer, and I love them. The only things that disturb me is the occasional ping from my phone which I ignore, or from Cardan’s phone which I can’t help but look at. I’m not trying to read his messages but I’m curious about who they’re coming from him. I thought I knew him, that he wasn’t just like his friends, but worse than them, the ringleader they wanted to impress with their games and cruel jokes, but whatever he thinks of me he’s been nice to me whilst I’ve been here and I’m not at all sure why. Nicasia has messaged him, but most of the other names that come up are unfamiliar to me, a few are people from University that I didn’t realise he even knew, they’ve never been part of the group he seems to hang with that Taryn and I have been on the edge of. 

I think of Heather’s warning again and start to understand just how out of my depth I really am. If Cardan chose Edinburgh because of Insmire, we’re there because of Madoc. He has property in a few places that he uses, but the one he considers our home, and his stronghold, is a castle just outside of Edinburgh. He made his preferences clear when it came to picking a university, and we’d gone along with it. I’d rather have gone into halls at the very least, but in the end, it wasn’t a battle worth fighting. 

I can’t even complain that he’s particularly heavy handed. As long as we let the household know when we’ll be home, he’s content to let us come and go as we please. If he wants to know where we are, he would track our phones regardless of where we were living anyway, and the way he’s bought us up doesn’t particularly suit us for student living. How to explain to a flatmate why you always carry a knife, and sleep with another under your pillow, that my immediate reflex if someone touches me unaware is to dislocate their arm, or that caution and discretion are almost a mania with me? I have not been bought up to trust people, which doesn’t help when you’re trying to make friends. It didn’t matter when Vivi and Taryn were always around, the three of us where enough, but things have changed in the last year. Mostly between me and Taryn. She’s always been more socially adept than I have, better at small talk, more interested in clothes, and dancing, and experiences – all the stuff that makes it easy to have those conversations that don’t mean anything, and lately I feel like I hold her back from that, and she resents it. 

It’s partly why I let Locke in so quickly. He filled some of the gap that Taryn left, a gap I now know he helped make, but at the time it felt real. Not serious, but real. Real enough that my inexperience didn’t seem to matter; it was all a bit of an adventure, and something not being serious was a novelty in my life too. The kissing was fun, the sneaking off to be with alone with him for an hour or two was fun as well. The sex was okay given that I didn’t really know what I was doing, and we never seemed to have much time for me to find out, and maybe I should have cared about that, or considered how much of our time together was about him. But I didn’t.   
Maybe because deep down I had a better idea of just who and what he was than I’d been prepared to admit to myself it was never Locke’s betrayal that really hurt. It was humiliating, and I’d happily have run him over just for that, but it was Taryn I was really angry with. Taryn who I felt had betrayed me, not with Locke, but as my sister. She had no business letting me make such a fool of myself, or letting him hurt her like that, and I will never understand why she did it.

After that Valerian was just something to do, like running, or fighting. Both of which would have been infinitely better ideas. Nothing with him was good and he pushed me far further than I even want to think about now because the sick thing is that I felt like I deserved all of it. If I’d had a bit more experience with men alarm bells might have sounded, but even the theory I’d picked up turned out not to be particularly sound.  
It was Heather who really made me think about what I was doing. A late-night conversation when we’d gone to stay with Vivi so she could introduce us. Vivi was holding forth on her theory that you should try anything twice just to make sure, but Heather was insistent that you shouldn’t do things which made you uncomfortable, ever. From her look I’m pretty sure that she was both talking directly to me and from experience. 

Valerian had a thing for choking, which I did not like. “If I trusted him” he said, which was a joke because we both knew I didn’t “and if you don’t, what are you doing here?” which I couldn’t answer in any way I wanted to hear. So far to late I stopped hooking up with him. I didn’t actually think he’d give a shit either way, he seemed to dislike me even more than I’d disliked him at times, but he was almost crazily angry about it, acting as if I’d offered him the gravest possible insult, and started to go out of his way to be nasty whenever our paths crossed. Which they all seemed to find hilarious, so pride made me shrug it off like it was nothing, I hoped he’d get bored, but it only made him worse.

I’m suddenly grateful to Carden for stopping things going any further last night, two bad choices is still excusable, three in a row is a pattern.

When I finally go back downstairs, Cardan still hasn’t appeared and Tatterfell tells me he’s having a tray in his room tonight. On a whim I ask if I can eat with her and the other servants. She seems happy to let me. It’s awkward at first, but Roach is there with a couple of others from the security detail, and he lightens the mood a bit. I’ve known men like this for almost as long as I can remember, I do at least know the language they speak and how to talk to them. 

What quickly becomes obvious is how much they all like Cardan, genuinely like him. I hadn’t expected that, even though I’ve now experienced for myself how charming he can be when he wants. They’re protective of him too I realise, and that’s the source of the constraint I’m sensing. Given how long I’ve been here already it belatedly occurs to me to ask more about the usual domestic arrangements when it’s just Cardan. They’re not the relatively formal meals we’ve mostly been sharing.

“It’s ridiculous to put you to so much trouble on my account” I tell them, “can’t we just do whatever you normally would?” It’s Tatterfell who eventually concedes to speak to him, which is a relief. I’m determined to spend as little time alone with Cardan as possible, and this is an excellent start.

My plan works out well over the next few days. The weather is good, so I go for long runs, I hang out with the security team a bit, swapping tips about knife technique and shooting. They’re dismissive at first, then see what I can do and change their tune fast. Madoc has taught me a few things worth knowing that even they haven’t seen. In return they teach me even more, I even start taking one of the younger guys through the rudiments of fencing.

We tend to help ourselves to breakfast and lunch in the kitchen, where there’s always plenty of comings and goings, and dinner is to noisy for anything but general conversation. The rest of the time I have university work to do, or busy myself with my phone or a book (I find another Sylvia Townsend Warner book – ‘Kingdoms of Elfin’) which I devour, along with The Brothers Grimm, some Angela Carter, and Alice in Wonderland.

Then my period hits, maybe punches me would be a better description, or kick. It definitely gives me a thorough kicking. Valerian had flushed my pill prescription when he trashed my stuff, and I hadn’t thought about it a lot. Time in lock down has been kind of weird anyway, and it hadn’t seemed like a big issue on top of everything else, I’d forgotten how much it hurt me and why I’d started taking the pill in the first place. Tatterfell came to check on me after I hadn’t appeared for breakfast, took one look to me and seemed inclined to fuss. She tutted when I told her what the problem was and went off to get me a hot water bottle. 

I know Cardan had been trying to talk to me alone, and that he was perfectly well aware of my strategy to avoid giving him the chance, so I was pissed when he knocked on the door then let himself into my room later that afternoon. If I’m going to be cornered I’d much rather it wasn’t when I was doubled up with pain, with unbrushed hair, and wearing one of his borrowed shirts. 

“Jude?” he paused “…are you okay?” His concerned tone was the last straw. I threw the now cooled hot water bottle at him, a difficult to aim missile at the best of times, which this was not. And obviously the clue he needed. The concerned expression was replaced by a knowing smirk “I’ll come back when you’re aims better…”

He actually came back with the hot water bottle refilled, I hadn’t even noticed him pick it up, paracetamol, and a big bag of giant chocolate buttons (which I’d told him were my favourite days ago and damn him for remembering). I turned my back on him and hunched up further under the covers, but he didn’t take the hint and spoke anyway.  
“Jude, when you’re feeling better I really think we need to talk.” I didn’t reply, but when I woke up the next day it was to Tatterfell with a cup of tea and a new pill prescription. I started to thank her but she shook her head. “It wasn’t me, he phoned your sister and arranged for your doctor to send a prescription through to the local chemist, one of the girls went down for it first thing.” “Oh” was all I could think to reply, and she patted me kindly on the shoulder as she left. 

After that he was right, I couldn’t reasonably avoid a conversation with him any longer.

Cardan.

One of the many things I like about Jude is the way that I can never be sure what she’ll do next. I certainly didn’t expect her to march through my door just as I was taking my first sip of coffee, whilst I was wearing nothing but a duvet and a smile that was unfortunately probably more smirk than dazzle. I’m not shy, but she makes me nervous at the best of times. 

On the other hand she seemed even more discomposed than I was, so it obviously wasn’t meant as an ambush which is encouraging. “If you’d be so kind as to pass me some pyjamas” I drawl, “Or if you prefer, I can get them myself…” She’s glaring at me as if she’d dare me to get out of bed so I start to pull the cover back and she positively jumps across the room to the wardrobe, grabs the first pair she finds, and hands them to me wordlessly, definitely blushing, as she turns her back on me. I’m laughing by the time I tell her she can look again, and from the set of her spine I don’t think she’s very happy about it, but I slip back under the duvet, consider if an almost full cup of hot coffee is going to be an asset or a liability, and invite her to sit.

She does, and starts with thanks for my kindness yesterday. None of it was a big deal, nothing that I wouldn’t do for my sisters despite our general lack of closeness, but given our relationship, or rather lack of relationship, it’s an intimate enough conversation to make me blush slightly. Which redresses the balance between us a bit and gives me my opening.  
“What I wanted to say”, I start and trail off a bit… “is, that is…” she is raising an eyebrow at me and looking less than impressed with this eloquent beginning. “I find it hard to open up to people or trust them much – which is something I think we might both have in common. I like spending time with you, it’s been great having you here, and I want to try and be a bit more forth coming if that’s okay?” I rush on. She looks a bit non plussed, but that’s fine.

“I haven’t always been very kind to you or your sister” she definitely snorts at that “which I’m sorry for I say”, refusing to be distracted. “and I should have done more to reign in both Locke, and Valerian, I never thought Locke meant to pull the kind of shit he did with you and Nicasia, and I should have realised how out of control Val has become, but I didn’t. I hope I would have done something about it if I had.”  
“They’re not even really friends anymore, not in any way that counts. Being around me provides drama, and attention, which they both like far more than they actually like me. But we’ve known each other for ever, Locke was almost like a brother when we were growing up. His mother died not that long after mine had cleared off, she’d been a good friend of my father’s and we spent a lot of time together. He was fun, always the one who had the best ideas for stuff to do and told the funniest jokes. He could charm us out of almost any trouble too.”   
“When we started School, Valerian was… I suppose he was the kid the others were scared of, but you don’t always see someone’s a bully if they’re not bullying you, or you don’t want to see it, and even then everybody wanted to know the Prince, like I was some kind of sideshow. I didn’t care that he kept them away, I was glad of it. I despised the people who behaved like that, and resented ones like you who saw through all the prince bullshit and didn’t cow tow to me. And yes I can hear exactly how that sounds. I’m not proud of it, and I’m not trying to make excuses.”  
“Nicasia liked them because they were the right ‘sort’ and they liked her because she could provide even more opportunities for the drama and attention. It’s not that easy to shake of people you’ve known for ever, and at least with them I never had to explain anything, or try and be any better, they didn’t have any expectations of me. After Locke took Nicasia from me I realised I needed to be more careful about revealing the things and people I cared about, but it was still easier than starting afresh, finding out if people would like me for me, or if they’d still only see the prince.”   
“It’s absolutely up to you how you spend your time here, and who you want to spend that time with, but it was fun watching crap tv with you and all the rest of it, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid me. If I’m being an absolute arse just tell me, consider that a royal command even!” God, I really hope she sees that for the joke it’s meant to be. I look hopefully at her, no idea how to continue.

Jude.

I can’t quite believe he’s just said all that, I’m not sure how much I trust him yet however open he seems to be being, but I’ve missed his company too, he’s done some genuinely nice things for me, and this time I’ll be more careful, so… “you’re an arse”, he looks dumbfounded for a moment and then sends a cocky grin my way. “And what will you do if I can’t keep my hands off you,” I ask with mock innocence.

He settles back more comfortably against his pillows, waves a languorous hand, raises a brow and drawls “As long as you’re not actually trying to kill me I really don’t mind at all.” There’s something disquieting in his expression, something that definitely isn’t pity or disgust. “I’ll try and remember” I say as drily as I can. “Look, I’ve got some work I really ought to do this morning but if you like, a film this afternoon might be fun, maybe even something you’d actually like to watch?”

He nods. “Bring more chocolate buttons”, I tell him and head off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sylvia Townsend Warner is amazing, and I'm fairly certain Holly Black must have read her Elfin stories because there are lots of echo's of them in her work. There's a lot of stuff in The Bloody Chamber that makes me think of Jude too.


	8. closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't think how to summerise this one, but it's meant to be a bit of a turning point.

Jude.

Despite the work I really ought to be doing I keep thinking about Cardan, about what he said and what he looked like still sleepy, still in bed. I’m glad that I managed to make a joke out of it, but there are times when it really is very tempting to reach out and touch. Trying to keep a distance hasn’t helped at all with that, being friends probably isn’t going to make it worse. 

We watch The Princess Bride, which I’d never seen but is clearly a favourite of his, and I end up really liking. He brings the chocolate buttons too, and despite still feeling shitty it’s a really good afternoon. It’s also the start of a new pattern between us, I still spend a good chunk of my day on working or training, and we don’t often eat alone, but now I’m not thinking about how to avoid him I feel far less self-conscious when I’m around him. We talk about what we like to watch, books we’re into, music, the food we like, or hate, places we want to see, what we’re studying, things that annoy us. 

We don’t talk about friends, exes, family, future plans, or anything else particularly personal, but I get used to him teasing me about how hard I work, and he puts up with my nagging him over how little he seems to do. He tells me how much he hates shooting, which surprises me – it’s such a typically aristocratic sport that I assumed he’d be at least proficient, but he seems to have an absolute horror of shotguns. He does let me show him how to use a knife after he watches me practice one afternoon and turns out to be better at it than any of us expected.

He teaches me how to open a bottle of champagne with a sabre, which he claims is the only useful thing you can do with a sword, about iconography in art which he studies, and impresses me more than I’m prepared to admit with sleight of hand card tricks. 

It’s also become increasingly, clear that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Lockdown has been extended, Madoc is keen for me to stay put, and my biggest worry right now is how quickly I’ve got used to the life we’re living together. That on it’s own might be enough to leave me feeling edgy at the moment, but there’s something else in the air, and everyone seems to be feeling it.

Cardan.

If there’s still a slight constraint with Jude sometimes, things have generally been really good. The more time I spend with her the more I like her, but it also gives me cause for concern. She’s always been one of the most accomplished and able people I’ve ever known, with everything she did looking like it had come easily to her. Which could, quite frankly, be intimidating. I’ve got a much better idea of how hard she works for it now, which is intimidating on an entirely different level. 

She keeps nagging me for not working hard enough, which doesn’t cast any very flattering light on what she must think I’m doing while she’s off running up mountains, or hitting my poor security detail in whatever unnecessarily violent way they’ve chosen for the day. The pace and standard she sets for herself do not seem realistic for the long term. I worry about what’s driving her and how long she can carry on like this for. She’s also the first person I’ve ever known who I feel could achieve anything she set her mind to. Most people I know get the things they want simply because of who they are, they feel entitled to them. She makes a mockery of all that.  
We’re still skirting around anything that might be considered to personally revealing. Good intentions aside we’ve both learnt to guard ourselves to well to easily drop the habit, and I want to respect her boundaries. We most definitely do not discuss Locke or Valerian which is a particular relief. Both had picked up on my interest in her, and both had delighted in sharing details of their relationships with her to try and provoke a reaction from me.  
It’s not something I ever want her to know about. I don’t want her to know how much I think about that kiss either, or want to do it again, at least not until the trust we’re slowly building between us is a little bit stronger.   
The rest of it is good though, so good that I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I have these last few weeks shut away with her and as in my experience things like this never last for me, I’m beginning to wonder when it’ll all start going sideways again. 

Jude.

The weather has been bad again so Cardan promises to teach me how to play billiards. It seemed like a great idea this morning, but now we’re actually doing it there’s altogether to many opportunities for me to find myself bent over the table with him right behind me. I’m thinking far too much about the physicality of him, and consequently fluffing what should be the easy shots he’s set up for me. There’s also something in his smile that tells me he knows exactly the effect he’s having. And worse than that, I’m doing absolutely nothing to discourage it.

“At last we seem to have found something I can do better than you, dear Jude”, if the smirk doesn’t go I’m going to kill him. Possibly with the cue. Which I’m holding so tightly my knuckles are white. “Maybe if you relax your grip a bit?” he suggests.   
“Stop using your wiles to distract me with” I snap in return  
“My what?” that laugh is still there damn him, and it’s enough to set me off.  
“Your wiles, don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. I’m not of those stupid girls who drool all over you that you like to make such an exhibition of yourself with, I’m not impressed with that shit, and I’m most certainly not going to fall for it whatever pathetic move it is you’re trying to pull.” I sound ridiculous even in my own head. I sound jealous which irritates me even more.  
He actually looks annoyed though and I’m stupidly pleased to have got under his skin. “They only want to fuck you because you’re a Prince, and what the hell does that make you for doing it.” I know I’ve gone to far now, but I’m past caring, “How many of them do you think would bother without the title.” All of them probably, he’s beautiful and remembers how you like your tea, and brings you chocolate when you need it most, and makes sure your shitty ex doesn’t manage to drug and rape you. He’s also white with anger.

“Do you really think you’re so different Jude?” It’s almost a whisper, “That my ‘wiles’ won’t work on you”, he’s closed the distance between us, so I have the option of making an undignified scramble around the billiard table or standing my ground. “Will you really not fall for them”, he tips my chin up with one long fingered hand, so I’m forced to meet his eyes as he stares down at me. I can feel his breath against my skin when he speaks. “would you truly hate it if I touched you like this”, his hands run down my back.  
I should look away, I know if I look away he’ll stop. But that’s not at all what I want, I don’t want to sigh and lean into him either, but that’s what I do. “Or maybe I should touch you like this…” his mouth is against my neck now, freed from his gaze I can finally speak.

“Yes”, it’s half an apology, half a beg on my part. I think if he walks away now I’ll hate him forever, and that it would be absolutely be what I deserve but instead he kisses me. If there’s any anger left I can’t detect it, he kisses me like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing in the whole world. Which is good because I’m absolutely sure there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing, especially not thinking.  
He’s lifted me onto the billiard table and I have my legs wrapped round his waist and shirt half off before he breaks that kiss to look at me again “we probably shouldn’t” he starts, “probably not I agree” unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. His answering laugh is a little unsteady.

We end up on the long leather sofa that runs the length of the billiard table where I find there’s another thing he’s better at than me. I thought I knew how this worked but it’s soon embarrassingly clear that not only is my experience not particularly wide, it hasn’t been very good either. He does clever things with those hands that I don’t expect, draws responses that I didn’t realise my body had in it, all the while watching me with an intent focus that makes me feel utterly exposed and more than a little dazed. 

When he’s tipped me over the edge he seems content to stop – and snuggle. There’s no other word for it. He watches me for a bit, clearly reading everything I’m thinking on my face, because he suddenly laughs.  
“There’s no rush Jude, and this bit is fun – we don’t have to do everything all at once.”  
I want to say we do, that if we don’t I’ll overthink it, be overwhelmed by the vulnerability he makes me feel, that I’m already frightened of how much he’s made me like him, but instead I find myself apologising for the things I said “it was childish, and mean spirited, and not even true.”

His face is shuttered when he replies, “Some of it was true enough.” I’ve never felt more remorseful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to echo the scene in wicked king where they get together because I think that's where the reader really gets to understand where they're at even if Jude doesn't.


	9. The bubble bursts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were going suspiciously smoothly, so time for some drama, peril, and the re-appearance of Valerian

Cardan.

Of all the things that Jude is great at, getting under my skin must be somewhere near the top of the list of her accomplishments. My father might just do it more effectively, nobody else comes close. Not that I can bring myself to regret letting her provoke me into starting the things we did, and I don’t doubt that she shared my enthusiasm either.

I didn’t expect her surprise, or evident confusion, over feeling pleasure, or how hard she’d fight to disguise both. I wasn’t at all prepared for how angry that would make me feel on her behalf either, or how protective.  
I loved Nicasia but she never made me feel protective, and the idea that she needed anything from me beyond my company is laughable. Nicasia knows what the future has in store for her, is quite at peace with it, and well prepared. She’s also well protected, secure in her families love for her and the purpose her position provides. I could see where I might fit into all of that and liked it enough for it to be the loss I felt most keenly when she left me. Especially for Locke, god knows, there are plenty of better men than I am out there, but I don’t think he’s one of them, and I still do not understand what deficiency she found in me that made him preferable. 

I was angry when he cheated on her, but in all honesty more because he treated something I’d cared about so carelessly. When he treated her like she was nothing I felt like it diminished me too. If I ever thought that more than Nicasia’s pride was hurt by that episode it would be different, but whatever else she felt, it was not heart broken. 

As for the rest of the girls I’ve gone to bed with, Jude was uncomfortably close to the truth about them too. I’ve become expert at avoiding any who want more than to make a Prince a notch on their bedpost, and it’s seemed harmless enough, fun for all involved, no feelings, no hurt. But seeing it through Jude’s eyes makes me uncomfortably aware of how anonymous those girls have been to me; how sleazy it’s been to take their compliance for granted. And I think maybe I deserve more than to be a boast to giggle over or compare notes about.

I don’t know what it is that Jude likes about me, I struggle to find anything much in myself that she might admire. But she does like me, and I’m starting to think that there are things I can give her that just might be worth having. She makes me care. 

Jude. 

Roach can’t join me for a run in the morning, he’s pre-occupied with going over the security protocols. It’s nothing he can quite put his finger on, but he says his gut is telling him something is off – it’s half a warning, half request to report back anything that seems odd. It’s enough to help me push back the thoughts of Cardan that have driven me out of bed even earlier than usual, and I’m grateful for the distraction. I’m hoping that by the time I return I’ll be able to face him with something like equilibrium, or at least not a blush. 

Everything seems fine at first. I’m heading along the river where it marks the southern edge of the estate, planning on coming back through the woods before it curves around to the east when I hear the calls and clattering wings of disturbed pheasants. Without Roach’s unease in mind I slow slightly to see if I can spot what’s bothered them.

It’s not enough to stop me going over as a trip wire is suddenly pulled taught across the path, but it means the fall doesn’t do as much damage as it might. Twisting to one side as I go down is mostly instinct, I can’t avoid the blow to my head, but as sick and dizzy as it makes me the momentum was slightly off so it doesn’t actually knock me out.

“Got you, you bitch”. It’s Valerain’s voice I hear. I have two choices and barely seconds to make them in. Try and bring him down and run, or pretend I’m out cold. If I misjudge the first option I’m done for, I pretend I’m out cold. I know with absolute certainty that he means real harm, if I run I can’t afford to get caught. I know the terrain, but he must know it just as well, maybe even better, and I don’t know what damage the fall or blow have done. 

My one advantage is that I’m sure he’ll underestimate me, I won’t make that mistake with him. I’m absolutely expecting the kick in the stomach when it comes, but I’ve taken enough hits training to not react. Satisfied I really am knocked out he hefts me over his shoulder without even bothering to tie me up. 

He can’t risk dragging me any distance at all. The trail would be to obvious and he must know serious people will come looking. My head is bleeding quite a bit, and from the way my knee and ankle are throbbing I’m really not sure how well they’ll support me, but I can and do make myself as awkward a dead weight as possible. He’s walking further than I expected but when I hear the river again I think I have a good idea where we’re going. Turns out I’m right. I’m thrown down non to gently onto a packed earth floor, hear a door slammed and locked behind me and then silence. 

I give it a few minutes before I risk opening my eyes and moving. I’m in a sort of bothy that sits by the river right on the boundary of the estate. It’s well off the path we run along and quite close to the road. I took a detour here with Roach when he was checking for storm damage, but normally nobody bothers with it. It’s little more than a stone hut that the ghillies sometimes store bits in, convenient to them because they can more or less drive up to it, but not pretty or secluded enough to appeal for anything else. It’s currently empty of everything apart from a little wood burning stove and a bench to sturdy to break. 

I had wondered why Valerian didn’t bother about tying me up, but as the only window is to small for me to squeeze through and the door appears solid it can’t have seemed like it would matter much. I guess he would be quite happy for me to waste my energy on trying to get out too. With luck it’s going to be a mistake I can use, but that rather depends on what he’s got planned for me. He could simply mean to leave me here, it’s like an icehouse and cold, injured, without even any water it’s a pretty grim outlook. I’ll be found eventually but if the first assumption is that I’ve fallen on my run it’ll be a while until anybody comes this way.

I don’t think that’s what he means to do though. I think he wants to hurt me, and see me hurt. To do that he’s going to have to come back and the best time for that will be when any search is going on elsewhere. He’s left me know because he wants me to have time to start panicking in. He has made a mistake.

I am without doubt as frightened as I’ve ever been, but I’ve not lived as Madoc’s daughter for nothing. I’ve resented his insistence on discretion in the past; doubted the wisdom of his maxims about making enemies underestimate you, always showing the least that you can do, but now I see his point. He’s taught me how to use fear to my advantage and I’ve been an excellent pupil, my life since he took us has been lived in fear and I have no intention of Valerian being the one who breaks me.

My knee and ankle are bruised, but the damage is no worse than that, and in the relative dark and quiet my head is feeling much better. It’s bled a lot as such wounds do, but I’m not even worried about concussion. The light in here is terrible, but I’m accustomed enough to the gloom now to be able to see fairly well, and it’s the stove that has my attention. It has a top that would normally be opened with an iron bar, and I don’t think it makes sense to take that away with all the other things. Too easy for it to get lost. After a bit of searching I find it propped up behind the flu and now have a very handy weapon.

An inspection of the door makes it clear that it is to solid to be worth wasting any effort on, so I settle down to wait next to it. I think about the last few weeks with Cardan, and briefly consider the possibility that he might somehow have been involved in this, that being nice to me has been part of an elaborate joke. I might have believed it a few weeks ago, but not now, and it feels important that I get to tell him that. Or something like it anyway.

Cardan.

I don’t think much of Jude not appearing until lunch time. She’s often busy all morning and whilst I hoped she might seek me out today it’s also very like her to want some space after last night so despite an urge to knock on her door I leave it. So it’s not until lunch that any of us realise we should be worried, and the search well under way when I get a message from Valerian; ‘I have your toy, but I might have played with it a little too hard’.  
He must be mad, I have no doubt at all about his meaning, or his capacity to break things, people included – but to go after Madoc’s daughter is insane. It might be that thought that stops me descending into useless panic, but instead gives me an icy clarity and focus that I intend to exploit as long as it lasts. 

How did Valerian know where to find Jude? Her family knows, but none of them are likely to have told him. Taryn would mean that Locke must know, but if he couldn’t be around to enjoy the drama it would amuse him more not to tell Valerian. Which leaves Nicasia. She certainly dislikes Jude enough to have no compunction about making things very difficult for her, and I doubt she understands how far Valerian would go. She would tell him as a matter of course and stoke his resentment in the same way, she certainly wouldn’t want to know anything about what he meant to do though or be anywhere near it. She’s not going to be able to help me, but there’s definitely going to be a reckoning if anything happens to Jude.

I can only hope that Valerian will underestimate her as I might have done a few weeks ago. He’s arrogant enough to do so however well he knows her, but it does nothing to ease the fear I feel for her. There are things he’s said in the past to taunt both sisters that makes much more sense if he knows as I do, or at least guesses, what happened to their mother. If he even thinks Madoc could be behind her murder and isn’t worried about hurting someone Madoc considers a daughter then there’s no way this ends well.


	10. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody locks Jude up for long.

Jude.

The overcast morning has turned into an afternoon of heavy sleety rain by the time Valerian comes back, it makes the inside of the bothy darker than ever which is to my advantage. I’m crouching well below his eye line and catch him hard around the knees whilst his eyes are still adjusting to the deep shadows. This is the risky part; I need to incapacitate him out before he gets a chance to use his height or strength against me, it’s possible, likely even, that he’ll be armed and I’m weak from loss of blood and hunger, tired, stiff, and cold. 

He has a knife and the sense to lash out with it even as he comes down. I feel it slice down my arm in a long scratch, but it’s not enough to stop me bringing the iron bar hard down on his arm. I very much hope that I might break it. I don’t pull the blow to the back of his neck either and watch him go out with satisfaction. I want to kill him and realise now that it wouldn’t take much. One more good blow, we’re near enough to the river that I could haul him to the bank and have him over. It’s high and fast enough that he might even get washed out to sea. The blow to the head could pass as an accident. In fact I could just tip him in and such a blow might happen quite naturally, or he could drown, and there would be nothing at all to suggest I had any hand in it. It’s horribly tempting, but it’s crossing a line.

Madoc told us once that killing is easy but the consequences are not. He also told us about cornered rats and the wisdom of leaving your opponent an exit if you want to avoid a messy clean up. His bed time stories were not the best. I stick to my plan. 

Valerian had a rucksack with him, it has rope in it, zip ties, an unopened bottle of vodka, rags which I think were meant to make a gag, card big enough to cover the small window, tape, candles and a lighter. I use the rope to tie him up, tightly enough to give him pause, but lose enough that he should be able to work free if he’s not found soon enough. I poor the vodka down my arm, it’s bleeding but not too much, it’s really only a bad scratch, infection is a bigger concern. The vodka stings and the smell of it makes my head swim, but at least it should be clean now. I throw the bag and the rest of it’s contents into the woods. A quick check of his pockets finds me phone and car keys which I chuck at opposite ends of the hut. Ideally, he comes to, gets out, and stays away. I don’t think he has that much sense, but I’m leaving him the exit just in case. Every other scenario I’ve played out in my head ends in total shit for all involved, so I’ve got to hope. 

And that’s it, I take his coat for some protection from the elements, the knife just in case, and head off into the woods hoping I’ve done enough to slow him down. I’m about five miles from the house, the light isn’t good, the going treacherous under foot which will slow me down, and it’s bitterly cold, but my plan has got me this far and as long as I can keep going I will be okay.

Cardan.

The weather is foul and the light fading fast when I spot a flash of colour on the edge of the tree line that has me running across the grounds. Roach thought it was possible they might be still on the estate. He reasoned that it was more private than risking being seen driving around the countryside in the middle of a lockdown. There are empty cottages and bothy’s that would be easy enough to break into. It feels like a long shot but not impossible. It leaves me having to consider phoning Madoc, who I think will want to know before the police. 

It seems almost impossible, but it’s Jude. She looks a mess, but she’s alive. She struggles for a moment then all but collapses into my arms. I talk to her all the way back to the house. Thankfully Tatterfell has seen us and meets me halfway across the lawn so I can start giving her instructions without delay. I wonder how she got away, and then find I can’t bear to think any further.

Jude. 

I see Cardan run towards me and all but stumble into his arms where everything suddenly feels like to much effort. I think I need to stay awake but can’t quite remember why, I wish he’d stop talking so I could just drop off, but he doesn’t. He keeps talking all the way up to his bathroom, all the time he runs a bath for me, all the time he takes me filthy bloodstained clothes off. He talks to me whilst he gently cleans the cuts on my head, arms, and knees. By the time he puts me in the bath Tatterfell has come with hot chocolate which he insists I drink, and then he talks to me through the door whilst she helps me wash. 

She bandages my arm and helps me into another pair of Cardan’s outrageously opulent silk pyjamas and then he carries me to his bed, still talking. Roach comes and gives me a once over, he looks grim but content with what he finds. Beyond telling him where I was, Cardan won’t let him ask me any more questions. It’s only when I’ve managed to eat some soup and sandwiches that he finally lets me sleep, and even then, whenever I wake it’s to find him sitting next to me.

Cardan.

When Roach gets back from checking the bothy Jude identified, he’s found the bag she threw into the woods, but no sign of Valerian. I don’t doubt that he would have killed him if he’s caught him, that thought doesn’t bother me as much as it should. He thinks Jude is physically okay and that there’s no immediate need for a doctor. Her wounds are mostly cuts and bruises, nothing bad enough to need stitches and her temperature has come back up enough for him not to think hypothermia is a risk. 

We’re both worried about Valerian. I know that my security detail have viewed some of his activities with disfavour over the last year, but they hadn’t liked how much I drank either, and I didn’t listen to those carefully worded warnings. Out friendship cooled when he started seeing Jude. He knew I was interested in her, I knew he genuinely disliked both sisters. He felt they had no right to be where we were, that they should know their place. Taryn’s ability on a horse and Jude’s skill with a shotgun he saw as a personal affront. Locke at least see’s the same beauty that I do, but there was never anything appreciative in Valerian’s eyes when he looked at them. Only revulsion. 

His boasts about Jude were beyond distasteful, made as much to cause me pain as her. If he wanted to diminish her in my eyes though he failed, he was the one I started to look at with disgust. Even so his behaviour has escalated faster and further than I think any of us could have imagined. I’d like to hope that he’ll leave off now, but it doesn’t at all track with the Valerian I know.

Meanwhile I’m not leaving Jude’s side until she’s fit enough to make me – which will inevitably be far sooner than I’m ready for.

Jude.

The next time I wake his phone tells me it’s about 5am. There’s a lone candle that smells of some mixture of pine and wood-smoke giving just enough light to make out that he’s fallen asleep in his chair. He looks exhausted, uncomfortable, and beautiful in the flickering light. Like a prince in a fairy tale. I wonder for a moment how I would have felt if it had been him who had gone missing, and then dismiss the thought as my bladder reminds me what t woke me up for. 

Slipping out of bed I’m almost floored by his too long pyjama bottoms, which I’m just dropping when I hear his voice. “Jude?” the light is to low to clearly read his expression but there’s a note of fear in his voice.   
“They’re a trip hazard”, I tell him picking up the pants and chucking them on the bed.   
“Were you planning on tripping in bed?” he queries.   
“Going to the bathroom”, I clarify, he seems to relax a bit, “but you should get into bed, you’ll be much more comfortable.” When I return his clothes are on the floor and he’s in my discarded pyjama trousers looking bleary eyed and a bit confused.  
“No top” he says with a silly grin. I sigh and get back into bed, after a moment’s hesitation he follows me, curling his long body around mine. I feel safe, and cared for, any lingering chill chased away by his warmth. Maybe it’s an illusion, but it’s one I’m quite happy to give myself up to whilst I drift off again. My final conscious thought is that this is far more dangerous than his kisses.

It’s there again when we finally wake much later in the morning. Maybe it should be awkward, but it feels entirely natural and I realise how very much I want this with him. Someone to be close too, someone I can risk being vulnerable with however much it scares me to do so. He tells me how frightened he was for me, seems pleased when I promise that I’m not that easy to get rid of.

Cardan, not the prince, not the unbearably handsome boy, not even the one who’s touch and kisses are like wine to get drunk on, but this one who came running when he saw me struggling through the forest and wouldn’t let go until he was sure I was safe. The one who makes me laugh. It’s so much more than I ever dreamed of. I’m not at all sure I deserve any of it, or how much it might end up hurting me, but here and now I decide I’m willing to risk it.


	11. Debrief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just catching up really

Cardan.

When I wake up I find I can’t stop grinning, I know I must look like an idiot, that I should be delivering a pithy one liner, that I’ll have morning breath and my hair will be a mess, but I don’t care about any of it. She’s okay, she’s here with me, and I don’t know if it’s possible to feel happier than I do in this moment. The way she settles into my arms tells me that it probably is and we stay like that in a comfortable silence until my stomach rumbles. I could swear she’s as regretful as I am as she sits up.

“Clothes and breakfast.” She states  
“Or, and hear me out on this,” I suggest “breakfast and then clothes, maybe clothes much later?”  
Her “no” is definitely regretful, but she’s right. I know Roach wants to speak to her, I don’t want to put off the necessary conversation with Nicasia much longer, and there’s something else I need to bring up with her.

She’s dressed and back before I’ve finished choosing socks which I tell her is the benefit of her restricted wardrobe. She’s wearing my fair isle jumper and I know the stupid grin is back whilst she scolds me about my vanity. We’re half way through porridge that Tatterfell has laced with cream, whisky, and sugar (something she only brings out for a serious celebration) when I broach the subject of Madoc.

“I was about to call him when I saw you coming back yesterday, and still haven’t. I thought it might be a bit much last night on top of everything else to answer all his questions, I put Roach off until this morning as well. Would you like him to set up a link so Madoc can sit in and you only have to go through it all once?”  
“I think I’d rather not tell him at all for now.” She’s choosing her words carefully, “He’s not likely to react well… It depends a bit on what Roach…” she breaks off, “I’m assuming they haven’t found him?” I shake my head. “Well then, it depends on how much of a threat level Roach thinks Valerian is here now, and what reports he needs to make.”  
“How not Well do you think his reaction would be?” I ask.  
“He’s not inclined to tolerate anything he sees as a threat, and this would be personal to him as it’s family. If I tell him, Valerian is as good as dead.”  
She doesn’t say how she would feel about that, and I don’t ask, because honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it either. There’s a difference between wanting somebody gone and effectively sanctioning their murder. I wouldn’t blame her for doing it, I just don’t know if I could. It doesn’t make talking about what I suspect of Nicasia’s involvement any easier, but Jude’s surprisingly calm about it.

Jude.

I think Cardan is probably right in his assessment of Nicasia, he knows her well enough to judge and he doesn’t think she would have imagined this, but part of me still wonders. She’s never hidden her dislike, and thanks to Locke she’s got some grounds for thinking we went out of our way to make a fool of her. If I was Nicasia I might not care very much if I knew he’d take things this far, in the same way that I’m sorely tempted to turn this all over to Madoc.

Roach checks over my injuries, the bruising on my face where I cut my head is coming out, but the wound itself was superficial, my arm seemed to be healing okay as well. He makes me agree not to push the knee or ankle for a couple of days at least but otherwise seems content. He is thorough in his debrief and it’s kind of a relief to go over it all with him at first, but “you think I should have killed him whilst I had the chance don’t you?”  
He looks tired and drags his face through his hands, and I remember he’s probably been up all night, they all will have been. “Well, in some ways it would have made things easier, and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but it’s probably better that you didn’t.”

I digest this for a moment “I could have left him there for you to find as well, what would you have done with him?”  
He grins at me and shrugs, “Taken him to the police, but accidents happen, especially when people are on edge and it’s dark.”  
“I considered chucking him in the river and hoping for the worst” I admit, “but assuming he’s just really high and not totally insane…”  
“I saw what he did to your room” Roach interjects.  
It’s my turn to shrug now “I have a gift for pissing off exes.” 

“About that, I’ve seen you and Cardan getting closer, he’s a decent lad – better than the rest of his family anyway, but as a bunch they’re a toxic mess Jude, and there’s real baggage there, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”  
“What do you think I should do exactly” I think I sound hurt and mentally kick myself for it. He drags his face through his hands again.  
“Whatever you want, you bring out the best in him, but the worst that’ll happen to that one is a broken heart if it ends badly, you’re the one who’ll have to deal with a whole lot of press scrutiny and all the other shit that goes along with being linked to a prince. I like you kid, and I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t say anything, even if it is none of my business.”  
“I guess it is sort of your business though isn’t it? It’s not why I let Valerian go if that’s what you’re thinking?”  
“It wasn’t” he says firmly, “and I don’t think you’re some idiot with stars in her eyes and no idea what the score is either, but it doesn’t hurt to state the bloody obvious sometimes.”  
“No, it doesn’t” I agree, “And thank you, it’s good to know I’ve got a friend.”  
“Alright, now piss off and be young and stupid for a bit will you.”  
“I will” I promise, “but one more thing before I do that…” and we settle down to discuss Madoc.

When we’re finally done I emerge to find Cardan has finished with his phone call to Nicasia, he’s also got tea and scones which seem ridiculously homely after all the drama, but are also delicious. He tells me that Nicasia had been dismissive and then shocked when he gave her an edited run down of what had happened first after the party, and then yesterday. She’d been messaging with Valerian, and happy to bitch about me, to speculate that I was getting my claws into Cardan. He’d told her he’d spiked my drink with the intention that I’d make a fool of myself in front of them all, which didn’t bother her at all given her own bruised pride.

According to Cardan she was bothered by the trashed room though, and even less impressed that Taryn had cleared off under the circumstances, genuinely shocked by the kidnap. I’ve never liked Nicasia, she’s always been a bitch as far as I’m concerned, and I’ve always been a bit jealous of her which doesn’t help. Realising how close she and Cardan still are isn’t helping with the jealousy, but I’ve never thought she was stupid so I accept his opinion that if she’d had any real idea of what was in his mind she’d have distanced herself long ago. 

To be fair I don’t think they were especially friendly before Locke split up her and Cardan, then dumped her. It kind of forced them together a bit, and I think about what that might have been like for her for a moment. Maybe not great, he didn’t really care who he hurt or how, I doubt he would have been kind. I think too about Roach’s concern for me earlier and wonder who apart from Cardan might do that for her. But I don’t want to waste my afternoon feeling sorry for Nicasia, so when Cardan asks me what I’d like to do I’m prompt with my answer. “Watch stupid films and fool around with you”

He looks pleased but can’t help but tease me anyway with mock concern about a possible concussion before graciously telling me that “as you’ve asked so nicely, and as a special favour, the only gentlemanly thing to do is accede to a ladies request.”  
“I could hit you if you’d prefer it to kissing me” I grumble, but he just laughs. His kisses are gentle and sweet, sometimes tipping into something darker and more desperate for both of us but in the end it’s enough just to enjoy the pleasure of kissing somebody you really like with all the time in the world to do it in. 

When I eventually head off to my own bed I know I won’t sleep well without him, I also know I’m not quite ready to let him become this essential to my comfort yet, and anyway, what are the chances that I’d get any more sleep with him?


	12. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where they really get it together and start opening up to each other

Jude.

I did not sleep well, between thoughts about Cardan that kept me very much awake, and bad dreams when I did occasionally drop off, I feel worse this morning than I did yesterday. A brief look in the mirror shows that the bruising on my face has reached the really spectacular stage – it’s not a picture I want to dwell on. I wear Cardan’s fair isle jumper again, it’s almost as colourful as my bruises and I feel safely cocooned in it.

I also spend some time messaging with Vivi, Heather has finally worked out exactly who her father is and isn’t best pleased about it. I’m torn on this, Vi should probably have told Heather a while ago, but I get why she didn’t, and even now I doubt she’s told Heather as much as I told Cardan about our parents. Our relationships with Madoc are complicated, Taryn and mines because he’s not actually our father, but is the one we remember. Vivi’s because whilst he’s her biological father she remembers Justin in ways we don’t, and she’s never been as dependant on Madoc’s goodwill as we have. She’ll always be his daughter however much she tells him she hates him, and he’s always made sure she knows that.

Outwardly he’s become more establishment and respectable over the years, but there are plenty of whispers about him still, that he works for governments brokering arms deals and advising on security doesn’t make him any easier to bring up with the friends Vivi has made for herself. It’s why I can’t really blame Cardan for sticking with his awful friends however much I want to, Taryn and I have made exactly the same choice and for probably the same reasons.

I get why Heather is pissed off though, it must feel like she’s been lied to and she’s going to be wondering what else Vi hasn’t mentioned, and nothing she finds out is likely to make her any happier. But I’ve got my own problems right now, one of which is wondering how open I can bring myself to be with Cardan. 

It’s not a problem that goes away over the next couple of days. We walk the dogs together, choosing the cliffs and beach rather than the woods, choose the same room to work in, and carry on watching crap tv together. It’s increasingly clear that he’s going to let me set both the boundaries and the pace for anything that happens between us. He’ll put an arm around me, and initiate kisses, but he very carefully doesn’t push things further. I’d like him to, he has all the experience I’m so conscious that I lack, it would be easy to follow his lead, and I’m not at all sure how I’m going to go about this, but I know where I have to start.

Cardan. 

From the look of her Jude isn’t sleeping any better than I am, and I don’t think she wants to be on her own any more than I do either. Any doubts I might still have had about the exact nature of my feelings were swept away by Valerian’s stunt. I would have done anything to get her back, and have never felt so helpless realising that there was nothing useful that I could do. I’ve never particularly wanted to be useful before.

I’d like to take her to bed and keep her there with guards at every door to make sure she’s safe, but I don’t think she’d tolerate that for a moment, and I don’t doubt that she can take care of herself either. In the end the only thing I can really do for her is give her space to make her own decisions, especially about us. 

I think it’s a good sign that she starts by talking more about her family. We’ve both been so careful to skirt around anything personal until now that it feels a bit like removing armour. Trusting someone like this makes me feel vulnerable, but it also feels like a weight off my shoulders. 

Jude. 

I ask Cardan again what he’s really like to do if he could do anything. When he says “carry on studying history, I love the research and learning. I think I’d like to do a PhD, and write books.” I find it hard to believe he’s not easing me again, but there’s a wary look in his eyes that says not.

“You’d end up like in that scene in Indiana Jones,” I tell him, “where the girl has written ‘Love You’ on her eyelids, and he has to escape through a window to get away from them all.”  
He blinks at me for a moment “I believe those are from different films, but at least nobody could complain about the attendance rate in any class I gave.” The wariness has gone.  
“Is it something you’ll be able to do eventually?” I ask.  
“I don’t know, maybe, it’s not in the family tradition though, and they like us to at least try and look useful, and I don’t know if anybody would take me seriously…”  
I confess that I don’t have any clear idea about what I want for my future. “For a long time I wanted to work for Madoc, but he’s not keen, I think he wants to keep us out of that part of his world, but I’ve been on the edge of it for so long it’s all I really know. I’m thinking about law which might be interesting and it’s safe…” It’s his turn to look surprised.

“Safe isn’t a word I associate with you Jude, you’d end up some sort of human rights lawyer taking on whole governments and toppling dictators. But I could absolutely see you in one of the secret services, probably bringing down small countries in black op coups.”   
“Which is totally the dream” I confirm. 

We talk about our mothers too, how his left after 20 odd years of marriage and 6 children without it seems as much as a backward glance. I know the story of the fairy tale marriage of a beautiful young girl, that her husband was much older, and it eventually transpired unwilling to give up other women. That she was still only 40 when she went in a blaze of publicity and painfully candid interviews about her personal hell. Would have had to have been living under a rock not to know about the string of affairs that followed or the rumours that Cardan was not her husband’s child.

It’s not something that I’ve ever really given much thought to, though if I had the portraits of his ancestors here would have made it very obvious where his dark good looks come from, most of his siblings have their mother’s fair colouring. His family have a policy of not commenting on this sort of rumour or speculation, but talking about it, it’s clear that both his parents have used this particular gossip as a weapon against each other with no apparent regard for the effect it would have on Cardan. It feels like something else we have in common.

I tell him about the doubts I have around my own parents. The kindness I remember mixed with the mystery body that was found in the wreckage of Madoc’s old house, or that I’ve learnt he tracked them after my father bragged about how they’d bested him and it eventually filtered back to Madoc. Family is everything to Madoc and I have no trouble imagining either his grief when he thought his pregnant wife had died, or his anger when he realised that she hadn’t. I know he wouldn’t have made it easy for my mother to leave with Vivi, but as long as Vivi was in his life I don’t think he would have made it impossible.

Hurting his pride and making him look a fool are not things he could overlook, and that’s the thing I can’t forgive my parents for, they must have had a good idea of the possible consequences, why else the planted corpses? It hangs over all my memories of them. It’s sordid and selfish, and stupid, and it stole the lives we all could have had. 

All of this is a degree of intimacy that I’ve never dared with anyone before, I’m telling him things I’ve never voiced even with my sisters. I don’t like how vulnerable or exposed it leaves me feeling and yet there’s something exhilarating about talking like this too. It makes me think about Roach’s warning, and Heather’s worries for me. I’m sure he’s worth the risk. 

Which is why I’m gently knocking on his door at 2am on my third night of trying, and failing, to get some restful sleep. I know what I want but I’m not at all sure what I’m doing, a conviction that deepens when he immediately calls out for me to come in. He’s sitting up with a book so has obviously had trouble sleeping too. I get as far as closing the door behind me then find I’m more or less rooted to the spot, conscious that I’m wearing nothing but his oversize pyjama top, and that I don’t think he’s wearing anything at all. His bed seems a very long way away.

It’s a problem he solves for me by getting out of it, he isn’t wearing anything, but he throws on another of those sumptuous dressing gowns, and as he turns to do it I notice what looks a lot like scars running down his back.   
“Jude? Is everything okay?” I nod back   
“What can I do for you?” he asks gently, blessedly doing the thing I can’t seem to manage – closing the distance between us, and words clearly aren’t going to be my friend for this as all I can manage is a sort of strangled sob. So I kiss him instead, hoping he’ll understand that this is me moving things along.

He seems to get the message just fine, the gentleness of the last few days is gone, these kisses are hungry and desperate, I don’t feel like I can touch enough of him or get close enough, but as he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist I can’t help but hesitate. He sets me down and draws back, his breathing ragged. I feel both bereft and relieved. 

“There’s no rush, Jude, tell me what you want, what you like?” He looks every bit as vulnerable as I feel which turns out to be the encouragement I need. It’s suddenly easy to take his hand and lead him back to his bed. To kiss him as I push him gently back towards it and kiss him some more as I straddle him. 

“Let’s find out together,” I whisper. It’s as much as I’m prepared to say about what passes for my previous love life. It seems to be enough; I can read nothing but desire in his eyes now. He pays attention to my reactions in a way that disconcerts me, until I realise with a flash of anger that he really does want to know what I like and that nobody else has bothered about this before. When I can’t control my reactions to him anymore, he holds me steady through my uncertainty until I suddenly don’t care about anything but the moment we’re sharing. He makes me feel beautiful despite the barely healed cuts and many bruises.

When we’re finished he keeps me close, my head resting on his chest. “That was so much better than I expected” I tell him, then stop realising it definitely falls short of everything I wished to convey, but he laughs, a genuine delighted laugh.  
“Be still my beating heart, what a compliment – you have no idea how I’ve longed to hear those words from you. It was better than I expected too.” He tells me.  
“I’d far prefer it if your heart kept beating” I say, and then “I thought about you stuck in that hut, and all the way back through the woods. I wanted to tell you I trusted you, and how much I’ve come to like you.”  
For reply he kisses me again, it’s sweet and raw, and says more than words could. There’s more to talk about, but it can all wait, because now I really want to sleep, and this time I don’t think I’ll have bad dreams.


	13. Storm clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically this is the calm before everything goes to hell again

Jude.

I like waking up with Cardan even if 3 days in I’m still shy about people knowing we’re sharing a bed. It’s such a new thing for me that I’m not quite ready to share it with anybody but him. I don’t quite trust my own happiness either, it feels like something that could be too easily broken. I think Cardan feels the same to an extent; he’s not shy in the way I am, but I don’t think he’s used to this kind of happiness either. I don’t think either of us can quite believe our luck.

I’ve woken before him this morning so I can stare as much as I want, he’s also sprawled on his front, so I’ve got a really good view of his back. He’s not exactly hidden this from me but it’s the first time I’ve had a chance to really look and what I see chills me. He is criss crossed in pale scars which look very much like they’ve been made by a whip and I can think of no good reason why they should be there. 

I’m gently tracing the lines of them when I feel him wake up, for a moment he relaxes into my touch and then when he realises what I’m doing he stiffens and turns round, his expression is carefully blank and I try to keep mine the same. I’m entirely unsure about what I should say or do until he sighs.  
“Can I tell you about it another time?” he asks.  
“If you want,” I tell him, “but you don’t have to tell me at all if you’d rather not. I mean you can tell me anything, but privacy is a thing too, right? It’s…” I know I’m floundering here, “I trust you.” I almost use another word, and I wonder if maybe I should have, but trust feels like it’s maybe even more important between people like us who clearly don’t do it easily.   
He doesn’t say anything but takes me in his arms, hugging so tightly I can feel his fingers digging into my back. I would quite cheerfully disembowel whoever did this to him. I think he understood everything I meant by trust too because what we do next is definitely making love. It doesn’t make anything we have feel any less fragile.

It’s much later in the day when we’re working side by side in the library that Nicasia appears on his laptop. My face is still covered in bruises, I’ve scraped my hair back into a lumpy sort of bun held with a pencil which I know doesn’t do me any favours, and I’m wearing a shapeless borrowed hoodie. Nicasia looks perfect in a way that I couldn’t manage even if I put in a solid couple of hours effort. Irritatingly I’m betting that it actually is more or less effortless for her. 

If she’s surprised at seeing us so close together she doesn’t look it. I know she and Cardan text a lot, but I’m not sure what he’s told her about us and the stilted nature of the conversation isn’t helping me guess. She’s skirting around something though. Before she gets to the point there’s a knock on the door – Cardan’s father is calling, and with an apologetic shrug he’s gone. I assume Nicasia will be off too, but no. 

“You look like shit, Jude.”  
“I do.” I agree.  
“Cardan told me what happened but I didn’t, hadn’t, realised – seeing you… Val did that?”  
“He did.” I confirm. She looks genuinely troubled so I decide to make a bit more effort.  
“Look, I’ve never said this, but I’m genuinely sorry about everything with Locke, if I’d had any idea what he was up to, or about you, I wouldn’t have let him anywhere near me…” I want to say and neither would Taryn, but I’m not sure about that any more. 

“he likes to break things, it’s what he does, what both of them do in their different ways,” she says, and then after another awkward pause. “Have you heard from Taryn?”  
“No, not really – she’s been in touch with home, but I guess the signal is bad up there or something and…” be honest Jude, “and I don’t really have much to say to her right now.”

“The signal is shit, it’s why they’ve got a perfectly good land line. Look it’s probably better I say this to you anyway. I’m sorry about Val, I knew how much he hated you. He used to gloat to me about the stuff you did and a lot of other shit. When you told him to piss off I knew he wouldn’t take it well, but I really didn’t imagine he’d ever go this far. If I’d actually listened to half the stuff he was saying I… but you don’t really listen to him do you, not to take seriously? And I was angry enough to not mind him going on about revenge or whatever at first, and then it was just tedious, but…” she trails off.

“But who else was there.” I finish. “What do you mean exactly about him telling you the stuff we did?” She looks as discomforted as I feel so that question is fairly rhetorical. “Who else did he talk to. Just you, or did all of you get to have a good laugh at my expense?” I’m both angry and ashamed, but right now I think anger is winning which is something.  
“We weren’t really all on great speaking terms as a group until Locke organised that party, but I doubt that Val would have spared Carden the details, and he would have delighted in telling Locke.” It’s not at all what I wanted to hear, but I’m kind of grateful to know anyway.  
“But that’s not what I needed to say,” she continues, “He’s been back in touch. A lot since yesterday. I’m not replying to him and to be honest I’m a bit freaked out by it. You need to be careful, and much as I dislike your sister she ought to be as well. Locke’s always egged Val on and I think he’s gone to them. If he sobered up and came down it might be possible to talk some sense into him, but that’s not going to happen if he’s with Locke.”  
“I see.” I say, and I do. Maybe better than she does. “Thank you.” She looks like she might want to say something else, but whatever it is doesn’t come out and that’s the end of the conversation.

Cardan.  
I’m not sure that leaving Jude and Nicasia alone even via facetime is a great idea. Nic knows I like Jude, but she’s made a point of not asking. I’m fairly sure that she wanted us to get back together after it all blew up with Locke but whatever I thought we had between us before him was gone afterwards. I should have said something to her though, and would have soon, I can’t imagine either of them will be particularly happy with me if they actually speak to each other.

Typical of my father to choose the worst possible moment to call me as well, especially given how seldom he does it.   
Jude comes looking for me in the end. She has cups of tea with her. God knows what she sees on my face but she suddenly looks worried, picks up the mug I think she just meant to leave for me and comes into the room properly. I watch her put both mugs on a low table in front of me before she perches on it herself.

“Dain, my brother, Dain” of course she knows who my bloody brother is, “He’s ill. With the virus, he’s going into intensive care, but it’s not looking good. Apparently there’s an underlying health condition that nobody knew about and he’s got really sick really fast. They’ve all been together in London, my sisters are being tested and if they’re clear they’ll be leaving, my father too. I never thought… it seemed so far away…”  
She doesn’t say anything but goes on her knees and puts her arms around me. I cling to her again like I did this morning. Another time has come a lot closer, there’s a lot of things I should probably tell her. Need to tell her if I’m going to be honest about who I am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few days but I'm back again and trying to work out how this might end. I'm still in lockdown so it's hard to imagine past that.


	14. Sleeping dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cardan opens up and Jude makes a confession.

Cardan.

“To be clear though, I wouldn’t be particularly sorry if he did die. He’s despicable.” It comes out in a rush, faster than I mean to start. Jude’s arms tighten around me for a moment, and then she disentangles herself, sits back on the table and hands me my tea.  
“Cardan, before you say anything else,” she hesitates. “I’ve told you I trust you, and I do, but…” She’s blushing and I feel like my stomach has dropped through the floor, whatever’s coming next chances are I’m not going to like it.   
“Madoc made it clear he wanted me to spy on you whilst I was here, and I didn’t say no to him.”  
Not what I was expecting but not really surprising, but “Why?”  
“Why did he ask me or why am I telling you?”  
“Both” I reply.  
“He likes to know as much as he can about everybody, anything that might give him an advantage, or leverage, or better manipulate people, or help him be in the right place at the right time to gain their trust or ask a favour, or know the right favour to offer. All of that and more. We weren’t exactly friends and saying no didn’t occur to me. Actually it didn’t even occur to me that there might be more to say than you were…” more hesitation, “as much of an arse as your friends. I realised by the end of that first day that I was wrong, and obviously a lot has happened between us since then.”  
“I’m telling you this now because you deserve the chance to choose if you trust me. Trust me not to report back to him, trust me at all.”

“What were you going to tell him?” I’m curious. She shrugs, “That you were kind to me, that your staff seem to like you – I guess I thought we might work it out together.” We’re both silent for a moment, and I think about the things we’ve talked about.   
“I do trust you.” She looks a question at me this time. “You told me about your mother, I looked up the news reports. Even this morning…” I reach out my free hand and lace our fingers together. “Did Nicasia have anything else to say?”

“Mmm. She did. Valerian’s been in touch with her, she’s concerned. She thinks he might be with Locke and Taryn, drunk, high, and unpredictable with it.” And then carefully flat toned “She also said she didn’t think he would have spared you the details of our sex life. He obviously didn’t hold back talking to her.”  
“That absolute fucker.” Is all I can think to say. I tighten my grip on her hand and am relieved when she returns the pressure.   
“Yes. Does it bother you?” There’s real concern there, however hard she’s trying to hide it.   
“It made me hate him.” I reply “He knew, or suspected, that I liked you, it was pure spite all round. But if he thought it would make me see anybody but him negatively, he was way off the mark.” I hope I’ve said enough, I want to say more but don’t know how to carry on. And then I think I do. 

“Give me a minute to make a couple of calls, we shouldn’t put off telling Roach about Nicasia’s suspicions, and then we’re going to do something I think you’ll enjoy!”  
She gives me a look but nods and picks up the mugs. “I’ll be back in 5.”

Jude.  
I’d really like to hit something, or break something, or better yet hit something until it breaks, or failing that hide under my duvet and cry. I hope I can manage to seem appreciative of whatever Cardan thinks will be fun, especially now that I can add feeling guilty about not letting him talk about his brother in favour of trying to reassure me to reasons I’d like to smash stuff or cry. 

When I get to the kitchen Tatterfell gives me a small bunch of keys she says Cardan has called through for, accompanied by a look I don’t understand. I’m non the wiser when I get back to him and he drags me across the house to a door we skipped on the last tour we did, and he tells me to open it. He seems weirdly nervous which I don’t get either, even when I open the door and find myself in a gunroom. 

He’s right, I will enjoy this. There are racks of side by side shotguns. They look old but are obviously well kept and have an elegance about them that makes it clear they’ve come from the very best makers. Further inspection confirms that. I thought I was getting used to being around the wealth and luxury that comes with his family, but this room screams of generations of privilege in a language I really understand, and it shocks me all over again.  
“Choose one” he says, “we’re going out… Or a pair if that’s the done thing.” I’ve been too caught up in admiring the guns to pay much attention to him but there’s something in his voice that makes me turn round. He’s looking at them with actual distaste, but he smiles reassuringly when he catches my eye, and I think sod it, this is exactly what I need. I shoot a lot, clays, and I’m good at it. It’s something I hadn’t even realised just how much I’d missed until I feel the familiar weight of a gun against my shoulder again, and after a few minutes I find a beauty that’s a reasonable fit for me.

There’s enough kit in a cupboard so that whilst none of it is quite what I’m used to I’m sorted for ear defenders, glasses and all the rest of it – which is when I realise that Cardan hasn’t bothered with anything apart from some ear plugs, but he just shakes his head and so I follow him out. 

It feels weird to be in a car again after all these weeks. And weird to be sitting next to Cardan whilst he drives us in a beat up estate Landrover up a single track road which quickly turns into a dirt track before we come out of the trees. He’s a good driver and I find I’m staring at his hands and profile thinking about things which are not shooting by the time we pull up. I can’t help but blush when he catches my eye which seems to delight him. 

“I’ll wait here, have fun.” Is all he says though.

There’s a man who has gamekeeper written all over him, and traps! I have questions about why Cardan doesn’t want to join in, but I figure they’ll keep. Meanwhile I’m going to smash things. And I do, I shoot better than I hoped given that nothing is quite what I’m used to, or the best fit. I’m also clearly shooting a lot better than the keeper expected too, I sense as much as see the way he relaxes and the how his attention changes.

He keeps his distance, but when I’m done and we’re heading back to the car he promises to set up something a bit more challenging for next time and we talk technicalities for a moment, then “I was surprised to get a call saying Cardan was coming up here.”  
“He thought I’d enjoy it, and he was right…” I’m trying to be non-committal because despite the elation I’m feeling it’s obvious that something has been a bit off since before we left the house.   
“Hmmph, you’re a bloody good shot anyway.” Is all the reply I get; I’m fairly sure I’ve told him far more than he’s told me, but we’re back at the Landrover, Cardan is leaning against it with a thermos in hand and I think any chance to ask questions has gone when “I knew it wasn’t his fault.” It’s almost a whisper and I’m not totally sure I heard right but there’s a definite sense of constraint again and it’s generalities until Cardan is back behind the wheel and we’re moving off.

“Do we have to go straight back?” I ask, “Or is there a view somewhere?”  
“There is, and also sandwiches and more coffee.”  
“Don’t you shoot at all? I thought it was almost part of the job description?” Subtle Jude, way to work round to that one. He concentrates on the track for a moment, and I think he’s going to ignore the question.  
“No, I’m not comfortable with guns. Did he say anything about it?” and now it’s my turn to say no. We’re silent for a minute and then he pulls up. There is a view and it’s magnificent. It’s also pretty amazing to be out of the house and immediate grounds, and I’m prepared to let it go, but he starts speaking again whilst I fuss around with the thermos.

“I know shooting is kind of your thing, and I should have set this up ages ago, but I…” he shrugs, “Anyway it was worth it to see your face.” Another pause. “When I said my brother was despicable – he, they both, found me a dead bore to have hanging around when I was a kid. They’re so much older that it’s fair enough but Dain was particularly nasty about it. When I was about 8 he told me he was going to teach me to shoot and I was delighted. He handed me his gun and told me to pull the trigger, so I did. And shot the keeper.” His voice is bleak, whatever he’s remembering has clearly lost none of it’s horror for him.  
“What happened to the guy you hit?” I ask.

“I didn’t kill him if that’s what you mean, but apparently the gun was loaded with heavy shot and it made a mess – you can ask him next time you see him…” which explains the constraint. But…  
“Your adult brother’s gun of choice, loaded like that, when you say he handed it to you, did he say anything about how to hold it?” I can feel anger rising in me whilst I think through this particular scenario.   
“No, but I still shot someone Jude.”

“And what happened to you when you pulled the trigger exactly?” I continue. He’s silent again for a minute.  
“I got knocked over by the recoil and broke my collar bone. Dain told our father that I’d picked up his gun without his permission, that I’d been messing around with their stuff. He told Balekin to whip me as a lesson. Which he relished doing.”  
“With a broken collar bone?” These people are fucking monsters, I thought Madoc could be bad, but there’s a casualness about the cruelty in this story that would not appeal to him at all.  
“They didn’t realise it was broken at the time.”   
I don’t think that improves anything. “The absolute fuckers, no wonder you haven’t wanted to pick up a gun again.” I say looking him square in the eye, I’m about to say more when he continues.  
“No, I’ve had to pick up a gun again a lot of times – like you say it’s more or less part of the job description. The sort of thing we’re meant to excel at, and when I didn’t Balekin was sent to encourage me to try harder. Hence the scars you saw.”

“Seriously? What the hell.” I think of Madoc again and suddenly feel grateful for him in a way I never expected I ever could. I am so angry, and Cardan, Cardan looks contrite.  
“I’ve fucked up the do something nice part of the day now haven’t I?” but he manages to quirk a lopsided grin at me.  
“Yes.” I say decisively. “But you gave me a chance to smash things, which was absolutely what I needed so it’s okay.” And I grin back at him. “Also, and I can’t be to clear about this, none of that was your fault, you’re not the arsehole in this scenario at all.”

“I kind of am though,” he says “I should have known better than to trust Dain.”

I don’t even know where to start on that, how messed up that an 8 year old kid should have to consider those kind of possibilities is, but there’s one short term answer I can think of.   
“Come on, lets go home and get really drunk.” I say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out I find it easier to remember what I've read than things I've written!


	15. Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the drama!

Jude.

We end up drinking hot coffee laced with a lot of vodka at the mouth of the cave down in the cellars. Unlike the last time we came down here the sea is calm below us and the evening sun is flooding in from the west. We sit on a big block of stone wrapped in blankets and watch it. One way or another it’s been a long day with a lot to think about so mostly we talk nonsense to each other and make up stupid jokes. 

The way we can do this is one of my favourite things about him. It’s something I hadn’t even realised was missing in my life and I suppose it comes back to trust. There aren’t many people I trust enough to be silly with. I guess Taryn and I used to treat each other like this but it’s been a while. It’s easier to talk to Vivi, or at least it is when she’s around and being the cool older sister, or even the annoying older sister, but I think she forgets in some way that Madoc isn’t actually our father. Maybe he does too, but Taryn and I can’t. I don’t doubt he loves us in his way, but then I don’t doubt he loved our mother either.

Our relationship with him is some fucked up mix of gratitude, affection, and fear. I’m not even sure exactly what we’re afraid of anymore – that he’ll love us to much, or not enough? Whatever it is my twin and I stopped talking about it a long time ago. I wish I could understand why she didn’t warn me about Locke though and what she thinks she’s doing with him. Another unspoken pact between us has been to go our own ways, find our points of difference and follow them instead of competing with each other so why the hell she’d let him play those kind of games is beyond me.

I’m wondering how long Cardan has been interested in me too, and how Taryn will feel about me and him. It’s possible that she picked up on something that I hadn’t and as the more socially ambitious of the two of us she might have resented it. I’m still angry about the way she left without checking on me too.

I haven’t tried to call her yet, and I should. I could ask Vivi to pass on a warning, but I’d have to explain things I’m not ready to share yet. I know Madoc doesn’t much care for Locke, and I’ll bet he knows more about that whole situation than he’s let on, he’ll respect out privacy on that to an extent, but if I have to start talking to him it’ll become his business and one way or another he’ll have to act. I think I’m more or less okay with anything he might choose to do, but Taryn is unlikely to be forgiving if I set the protective father figure on her and I think things are bad enough between us.

What I can do is leave messages that she’s to call me which is probably the right compromise. And actually she’s well enough able to take care of herself, and get herself out of an awkward situation if it comes to it. She has after all got the car if she wants to go home.

I think I should probably have done more to incapacitate Valerian. I should have made sure that Roach and his guys could find him, I should have gone with instinct and chucked him in the river. It’s beginning to seem really naive to have imagined that he would give up on causing trouble so easily but turning myself into a killer – I don’t know if I can do it, but I fear I’m going to find out.   
……………………………………………………………….  
Finding out happens sooner than I expect. We spend the next day close to the house by common consent. Roach is on edge again with a clear sense that something is off. Cardan seems more angry than worried which I think is a good thing but his warning to Roach about how well Valerain knows the house and grounds is a cause of concern for all of us. He’s spent a lot of summer holidays here from boyhood up with all the hide and seek and exploring that old country houses encourage.

It's not a relaxing way to spend time, especially coupled with increasingly grim news about Prince Dain, by the end of it we’re inclined to bicker with each other so after dinner I go for a long bath as the first excuse I can think of to give us both some space. I’m still not sure what to do with myself after it so I end up pulling on Cardan’s jumper and a pair of jeans again and head for the sofa in front of the window with a book which I totally fail to concentrate on. 

In the end I settle for turning the lights out and watching the last of the twilight fade to stars. I’m tired enough to be at least half asleep when something jerks me awake. Every instinct is telling me something is wrong. My phone tells me that I can’t have been asleep for more than half an hour and that although it’s properly dark now it’s not particularly late. My shoes are still by the sofa from when I took them off earlier and I’m just reaching down for them when the door is suddenly thrown open and a light flashed towards the bed. I freeze, fairly sure that I can’t be seen, and oddly unwilling to reveal myself.

Just as suddenly the light’s turned off and the door closed, and I belatedly realise what bothered me. Everybody in this house, especially Cardan, knocks before going into someone’s room. I pull my shoes on, pick up my knife just in case and head for the door – to find it’s locked. Something is very wrong. 

The door that opens into the study between my room and Cardan’s isn’t locked, which means I’ve got access to the corridor and his room when I hear voices coming from his room. A couple of steps closer to his door and it’s clear that it’s Cardan and Valerian arguing. I should have picked up my phone, I should have called through to security, and now I’m not sure if I should burst in on them or head back when there’s a thump followed by silence, and I act. The key is on my side of the door into Cardan’s room and I turn it. It’s the barest click but it’s clearly enough to alert Valerian because it’s his voice which calls out my name. I’m already at the door into the corridor though and halfway down it by the time he emerges. Any need for quiet gone I break into a run and realise I’m not sure where to go. 

It’s late enough now that there’s every chance the staff have gone to bed, I don’t know their part of the house beyond the kitchen. If I could get to a room with a phone I could call for help, but I doubt I’ll get the time to do it. I’m heading downstairs anyway and taking every twist along the way I can think of to shake him off but he knows this house to well for me to lose him, he certainly has a better knowledge of where all the light switches are than I do because whenever I think I’m about to hit the shadows another one goes on. Which leaves one option.

The cellars. They’re labyrinthine and badly lit enough that however well he knows them I should still be able to hide and hope that somebody figures out there’s a problem in time.   
To late it occurs to me that this might be exactly where Valerian wants me. They have tunnels leading out of them that come out by various outbuildings – so that previous occupants didn’t have their view spoilt by servants coming and going around the grounds. It’s the most likely way that Valerian got in, and he will know them well. But I’m committed now and the weight of my knife is slightly reassuring. I’m not totally defenceless and this time I’m expecting his attack. 

He's also still given to making stupid mistakes. If he hadn’t bothered trying to scare me with the lights he’d probably have caught me, although at least turning all those corners didn’t really give him the chance to use the advantage of his longer stride. I’m through the cellar door with time to slam it behind me hitting the lights as I go. The bulbs are set against the wall and I manage to smash the second one with my knife as I run past it. I’ve finally got the shadows that I want and a choice of tunnels.

I’m heading for the cave entrance because it’s the only route I’m reasonably sure of, and I know there are rocks I can hide behind down there. If I’m lucky he’ll have to stop to check which way I’ve gone which will give me some breathing space. I’m sort of lucky in that I get long enough to catch my breath and balance but no time to hide. 

The look he gives me is pure contempt, and I can see from his blown pupils that he’s to high to reason with.   
“Before I was just going to carve you up a bit. It would have hurt, and nobody would ever have wanted to look at you again, but you’d have been alive.” He says it conversationally, beyond doubt this is more than drugs talking. “But now I’m going to kill you. You never belonged with us Jude, at least your slut of a sister has the sense to keep a polite tongue in her head but you. You never seemed to understand what a nonentity you are or to know your place however much we humiliated you. Well you’re going to learn now and I’m going to enjoy teaching you.”

Totally fucking nuts. Which is a problem. He clearly doesn’t care about consequences, and though I have a better idea of self defence than he does, he’s stronger than I am and has a better reach. I’ve left myself with nowhere to run but back past him. He seems momentarily surprised by the knife I’m holding, but again – and this is just fucking great – he has one of his own which is longer than mine. I can’t help but worry about what he’s done with Cardan too. I don’t see blood on the knife which has to be good. 

He might have the longer knife but it turns out he doesn’t know what to do with it, it’s easy enough for me to dodge his blow, and land a long scratch along his arm. It surprises him enough to unbalance him for a moment so that he lurches forward and looks set to bring both of us down. I go with it rolling my shoulder and getting out from under him in the process. It allows me to kick the knife out of his hand, I hear it skitter off somewhere into the shadows but he’s back on me and this time has a hand around my throat and is dragging me up. I can’t breath and can’t help but panic a bit. I have no room to get any momentum, or way to unbalance him again, I’m powerless to stop him knocking my knife away, and am just about done for when my flailing hand knocks against a good sized rock. At the same time I there’s a shout from the steps above and his head whips around. He really doesn’t know what he’s doing because his grip slackens just a touch and he steps a bit closer to me as he drags me to my feet.

“Good. I’m glad you’re going to see this. It’s a fitting end to your obsession with this little whore.” Cardan. It’s Cardan running down the stairs towards us. I don’t even think as I swing my hand with the rock in it towards Valerians head. He’s close enough now for me to catch him squarely on the temple. I draw back and hit out at him again, and then a third time when he goes slack and falls.


	16. No going back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically all the drama.

Cardan.  
It all happens so quickly. I reach Jude as Valerian falls to the ground, she drops the stone she has in her hand and is pulling in air in great gasping sobs. For a moment it’s hard to tell if he’s alive or dead but I have a growing conviction that it’s the latter. All I feel about it right now is relief. 

I’d assumed it was Jude coming into my room earlier, seeing Valerian was – not a nice surprise. I hoped I could make enough noise to warn Jude, or anybody else in the house, that there was a problem. That obviously didn’t work. He hit me hard enough to stun me, but fortunately not knock me out altogether and the trail of lights made it obvious where Jude must have run to. I was terrified the whole time that I’d be to late although god knows what I thought I was going to do. 

Even now it’s Jude, still struggling to breath who’s checking for any signs of life. Whatever lingering doubts I had about Valerian’s status are put to rest when she looks up at me. Her face is white, stricken. And she’s started to shake. “He’s dead. I’ve killed him.” Her voice sounds all wrong, raspy and bruised and still all I feel is relief that he’s dead. Not her. I pull her up, and away from his body.  
“Good. If it had to be one of you, better him. Are you alright?”   
“No.” She says it through chattering teeth “Shit, shit, shit, I’ve killed someone.”  
I already have an idea about what I want to do about this but, “Jude, what do you want to do next?”  
She looks at me as if I’m crazy for a moment and then I see the moment she snaps back to herself. “What do you mean?” She sounds fractionally calmer.  
“We can call Roach, Madoc, the police – let everything take it’s course. It was self-defence, the publicity will probably be the biggest punishment for both of us – and we can ride that out…”  
“If either Roach or Madoc allows it to get as far as the police.” She interrupts and looking hard at me. “Or?”  
“Or, we can chuck him into the sea, let the tide take him. He’ll probably wash up down the coast in a day or two, it’ll look like an accident. Or he might not wash up at all.”  
“Okay.” I can see her thinking fast and realise we might only have seconds to act in now. “Okay, let’s do it.”

We drag his body the short distance to the mouth of the cave and slide him over the edge. I throw the bloody stone after him along with the knife he had. I have a moments hesitation about what to do with hers. It has traces of blood on it, but she’s known to carry it, I think there will be more questions if it’s missing, so I pocket it.   
Job done, Jude has started to shake again, so I pull her into my arms and keep telling her it will be alright. I doubt I sound convincing, but god I hope I’m right. Which is when Roach finally turns up. His first question is “where is he?”

“Gone,” not a lie. “He knows the tunnels down here, we used to mess around in them for hours as kids, it has to be how he got in and out. He turned up in my room, stunned me, and by the time I caught up he’d chased Jude down here, was trying to strangle her.”  
“And he just left?” Roach sounds sceptical  
“It all happened really quickly, I thought he was going to kill me, but Cardan turning up seemed to throw him, and then he was gone,” Jude echoes me, still not exactly a lie. “I was blacking out, I don’t really know…”  
Jude’s still rough voice makes him take a better look at her neck. The marks on it make him swear. “I’m taking you back upstairs, I’ll put one of the lads on your door, and please stay put until we’ve done a full sweep of the grounds.” Roach says  
I nod, relieved. I wonder for a moment if I should tell him what we did. I don’t think he’d mind particularly, even suspect it’s what he’d have done himself, but I don’t really trust anyone except for Jude, and now we’ve done it, sharing is a hell of a risk. 

We don’t really say much to each other whilst we wait in my room. Just sit on the sofa together both lost in thought, but I am so grateful that she’s alive and that Valerian can’t hurt either of us anymore that I still can’t find it in me to feel any sorrow for the fact that he’s dead. When Roach finally returns it’s to tell us that they’ve found at least two tunnel doors forced, one in the old brew house and another near the stable block. He’s still uneasy, but also apologetic about the poor job they’ve done.

I can brush that away with a clear conscience. Val knew this house almost as well as I do, along with Locke we’d made a game of getting in and out without being spotted often enough to be really good at it. He knew how the security teams worked, and nobody sane would have predicted what he was planning. This isn’t going to be a fun report for him to turn in, but I reassure him that we’re both basically okay which from the point of view of his job has to be the main thing. 

Jude surprises both of us by saying that she’s going to phone Madoc now, so I leave the room to her knowing that Roach will have to follow me. He still has a slightly baffled look – as if he has questions he doesn’t quite know how to ask me, or maybe ones that he doesn’t want to hear answered. I’m not sure which, or maybe he’s still worried about what he didn’t manage to do. 

Jude.

Madoc was right. It’s surprisingly easy to kill someone – not so easy to deal with how it makes you feel, but I guess that’s something you get used to with practice. I keep thinking through our options, the more I think the more convinced I am that we made the best choice, whatever that makes us. When it comes down to it I’d rather be alive than not, and however horrified I feel about what I’ve done part of me is very clear that he deserved it.   
Cardan’s strategy seems to be to tell as much of the truth as possible, just omitting the actual killing and disposing of the corpse details. It’s a sound plan and the best person to try it out on first is Madoc. If he works out I’m not telling him everything he’s not actually likely to judge me too harshly for what I’ve done, and not speaking to him asap will look suspicious if that body turns up. It’s an awkward call to make, but the worst bit has to be telling him to warn Taryn to be careful. It’s a lie, but it also says to much about the current state of our relationship that I haven’t called her myself. Don’t even have a number to get hold of her on. 

He's typically calm about the whole thing. Like Roach he sounds sorry that I didn’t end Valerian when I had the chance in the woods, but simply states that I’m no killer. I’m not imagining a slight disappointment in his voice as he says it, and I have to fight the urge to tell him he’s wrong. It’s not encouraging that I think he’d accept my bloody knife with every bit as much pride as any other trophy we’ve bought home. Maybe more. When I’m done talking he asks me carefully what I want him to do now. 

I wonder what my own father would have meant by that, or what he could have done for me, and suddenly I’m grateful for Madoc. He seems to accept my word when I say I don’t think anything is necessary, that I doubt Valerian’s ability to get to us again. We both know that if there’s a mess he’ll be called in to discretely clear it up, and that it’s better if someone else is known to have made that mess. Someone on the royal families existing security team for example. 

It's another bridge crossed and now I’m desperate to find Cardan. I want to walk into his arms and hear him tell me everything will be alright, even if it’s a lie. I also want to lose myself in him so completely that at least for a while there’s no space to think about anything else. When he comes back into the room a few minutes later he hesitates a briefly, then strides over and pulls me into a hug. His fingers dig into my back, and he doesn’t let go, but then I don’t try and pull away.

“I heard you fall” I whisper, “I didn’t know what he’d done and I was so afraid he’d… hurt you.” I can’t bring myself to say that I was afraid it might have been so much worse than that. His arms tighten around m, I know if I try and say anything else I won’t be able to stop myself from crying.   
“I didn’t know if I’d find you in time, and I couldn’t bear it Jude. I’m glad he’s dead. I’d have… I don’t know what I would have done if he’d… God, I love you, and I have no idea what I’d do without you now I’ve found you.”  
The tears are still threatening to come so I kiss him instead, kiss him in the hope that he’ll understand all the things I don’t know how to say right now when I can’t trust myself to speak at all. I hope it’s enough to tell him I feel the same.

Much later, my last waking thought is that I’m safe, I feel safe, and happy, in a way that’s utterly new to me. I want to tell him this, but he’s already asleep and I think it can wait for the morning.   
When I wake, it’s to find he’s already up, dressed, and – something is wrong. His face is set in hard drawn lines, he’s unnaturally pale, and holding himself with an odd stiffness. I don’t think this has anything to do with Valerian. The light tells me as well as any clock that I’ve slept long past my normal time. As I look at him he swallows hard, and seems to have to force himself to speak.

“My sisters were leaving London first thing this morning, heading for Norfolk in a helicopter.” He swallows again “It crashed. There were no survivors. Dain is – they don’t expect him to survive the day.”  
I take his hand in mine, nothing seems real. I’ve been wearing his sisters clothes, using toiletries bought for their convenience, sitting in their rooms. It seems impossible that they should be gone like this without warning. Everything is suddenly a hundred times more complicated. I find I really wish I'd told him I loved him too last night.


	17. Endings and beginings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of this part of the story, but there are a lot of loose ends.

Cardan.  
The day just goes, all the edges blunted by a feeling of dull unreality. I’ve never been close to any of my siblings, although the relationship was less tense with my sisters there was enough of an age gap to mean we just weren’t that interested in each other. In the last year or so we’d started to find some common ground over shared interests, but it hadn’t gone very deep. I was still the tedious little brother intent on getting wasted and having fun whilst they were thinking about marriage, good works, and all the responsibilities I could still put by. 

For now I don’t even know if it’s grief I feel or a strong conviction that I’ve been cheated again. Cheated out of the family I might have had – nieces and nephews would have been fun I think and cheated into a whole lot of attention and responsibility that I definitely do not want. Most immediate though is the sense of dread over the fact that my time here with Jude is now at an end. I’ll have to return to London in the next few days, the decision of precisely when rests on some godless mix of logistics and PR. There’s transport and security to arrange and a fine balance to be struck between not being seen to break lock down but being in the right place. There’s apparently also some debate as to where exactly the right place is. I don’t care about any of it. 

I’d rather have been here for when, or if, Valerian’s body turns up. I can’t help but feel us leaving will make it all look rather less accidental – but maybe it’s for the best. If he does turn up soon there’s not going to be much press space for him. I do not like myself for considering this. 

It’s agreed that we’ll take Jude back to Madoc’s on my way south and that we’ll go in a couple of days. Which is something of a reprieve in that it’s not today or tomorrow, but still far to soon. The idea of being separated from her is beginning to feel unbearable. Jude herself is almost frighteningly calm and organised. After the first couple of calls she takes over the organising and talking, leaving me to deal with the staff here who have perhaps better reason to grieve than I do. They knew my sisters in ways I did not, and Tatterfell particularly is devastated.

I half listen to Jude on the phone whilst Tatterfell pours out reminiscences. She’s making notes and suggestions about press statements to be released. Explaining her presence here in terms of old but mild friendship and considerable benevolence on the part of my family whilst her stepmother was ill in extending her our hospitality. She has a talent for this that I hadn’t thought to guess at. I imagine whichever secretary is on the other end of the line is delighted not to be dealing with me. She seems endlessly capable where I feel inadequate, paying attention to details I’d never have thought to question. For the first time I think I need this woman every bit as much as I want her. I wish I knew what she sees in me, and if it’s anything like enough.

Jude.   
It feels good to have something useful to do that keeps me busy, and whilst I kind of wish I could take some of the burden of dealing with the household’s grief off his shoulders too I know I’d be really bad at it. I’d occasionally come into the orbit of the Princesses with Madoc and Oriana but they seemed impossibly distant and glamorous, and bored by tongue tied girls like us. Vivi had been reasonably friendly with the youngest of them before she met Heather, and it occurs to me for a moment that she’s not going to be able to hide much about who she is from her anymore. We won’t be a big part of this story, but sooner or later chances are we’ll be noticed by the press, and once people notice Vivi they don’t tend to forget her. 

Nicasia calls, not terribly enthusiastic to hear my voice when I answer Cardan’s phone, I still don’t know how much she knows about our relationship, and now isn’t the time to find out. She seems happy with my explanation that I’m acting secretary for him, and genuinely concerned for him. I find I don’t much want to hand the phone over but can’t think of a good reason not to. I definitely don’t care for the warmth in his voice when he talks to her which is pure jealousy. Ex or not, I know they’re friends. I decide to take myself out of the room before he can leave it, which I think would be worse. 

Instead I head for my room and sort out all the clothes I’d borrowed from the Princesses. With only a couple of days left I can do without all of them. Tatterfell seems pleased when I hand them over to her with a muttered explanation. Logically nothing might have changed about those discarded bits and pieces, but the idea of putting on dead women’s clothes without their permission feels weirdly grim. 

I know any calls that come through for Cardan now are likely to be personal, so I head outside for some air and a vague intention of calling Madoc, when I see Roach. There’s something about him that makes me think he’s been waiting for an opportunity to speak to me alone, he also looks like he’s been awake for a long time. He comes straight to his point by telling me that a car registered to Valerian has been found about 10 miles down the coast. It was spotted because it was on fire in the early hours of the morning, there was no body in it.  
I look at him as blankly as I can manage trying to make sense of that for a moment before it clicks. And then it does. He might not know what happened, but he certainly suspects. 

“What do you think it means?” I ask.  
“That we’ve heard the last of him.” He replies. “At least for a while.”  
“I hope so.” I say  
“It was sheer luck the blaze was spotted, it’s a remote spot.” He says with a slight frown, and we’re both silent for a bit. Then, “I’m sorry kid, in all the fuss about the crash we haven’t reported to the police yet about last night.”  
I shrug “There hardly seems much point now does there?”  
“No.” he agrees, and then “You know you can rely on me for anything in the future, especially discretion – we’re not the sort of team liable to sell a story to the press, or anybody else for that matter.”  
I nod, I’m fairly sure we understand each other, and that he really is my friend. “The same goes if I can ever do anything for you.” I tell him. “And thank you.” We chat for a few more minutes about arrangements for the next few days and then he’s gone. 

Ten miles is far enough away to be ambiguous. The fire being spotted was bad luck as it ties the car to a date, but when I google the place it was left it occurs to me, just as it must have occurred to Roach when he dumped the car there that it would be the perfect place for a suicidal leap from a cliff. A bit more research tells me that the current and tides could be relied on to take a body that way.   
Now all I have to think about is how little I want to be separated from Cardan, and how much he means to me. I still haven’t had the chance to tell him, and somehow I feel like anything I say now will sound like sympathy rather than sincere emotion but I’m going to have to try.

Despite my best intentions the words don’t come and we fall back on actions instead. Dain outlives his sisters by barely 24 hours but this time there’s no flurry of phone calls or arrangements to deal with – just a few messages and calls from his friends. I help him pack, and when I try and return his clothes to him he insists I keep everything apart from the dressing gown.  
“It smells of you.” He says, and when I look blank he clarifies, “It’ll remind me of you.”

Which feels like a gut punch. 

Cardan.   
There’s a lot I want to say to Jude about everything she’s come to mean to me, but we’ve never really been great at talking to each other about anything personal. It’s always had to be dragged out of us and there’s such a lot now that I hardly know where to start. There’s a huge difference between being the youngest of 6 siblings, and being 2nd in line to the throne. I was decorative before, but essentially irrelevant outside of the gossip columns, and even there I wasn’t the biggest news. That’s not going to be the case anymore and I’m not sure how Jude will feel about it. I’m not sure how Madoc will feel about it either. Again I have no idea if I’m enough to make up for everything that comes with me.

I can see that she’s got something on her mind too, that there are words that she’s also struggling to find, but there’s a very good chance that they’re not the ones I want to hear. Regardless, one of us is going to have to start this conversation whilst we still have the chance for it, and for once I think I might be the braver out of the pair of us. 

“Dear Jude, I know I haven’t made myself easy to love, but you must know that whatever I have that passes for a heart belongs to you.” She looks at me for a long moment whilst I feel like that same heart is somewhere in my throat stopping me from breathing properly. I can see the emotions chasing across her face, but I’m not sure I can read them.  
“I’ve never found you hard to love.” She finally answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've reached the end of part 1, but there's definitely a part 2, and 3 in this to come. Thank you for all the comments and encouragement. This was a first try and I've really enjoyed it so mean to be back to do more.


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